The Choices We Make
by Odna Zvezda
Summary: In the back of Jimmy's car, Sonny tries to advise and teach Calogero some valuable life lessons, while Calogero also learns that Sonny's world is not as attractive as it seems. **Takes place right after Sonny saves Calogero**
1. A matter of trust

"Don't you trust _anybody_?" I asked him.

Sonny paused for a moment, considering it; then gave his answer. "No."

That was it. No explanation followed. No excuses. 'No' was his final answer. And with just that one word, that one single syllable, it felt like a knife had just been plunged into my heart.

He didn't trust me. After the many years we spent together, after everything we'd done together and been through, this is how he felt. On the other hand, I trusted him completely and unquestioningly. There was nothing I wouldn't have done for him, and I would have put my own life in his hands without a moment's hesitation if he had requested such. I had absolute faith in him, and now I found out that he had none in me.

And it hurt.

I didn't think it was possible to make things worse, but I noticed when that one word left his lips and pierced me- even afterwards - he refused to even look at me, preferring to stare into the back of Danny's head. His face was completely expressionless, and I felt the knife in my heart twist. I turned away from him as well, staring at the floor mat beneath my feet. At that moment, I didn't want to look at him either.

My thoughts drifted to my father, and how, just an hour ago, I'd also left him on bad terms. And it wasn't even just the two most important men in my life, not long before that, I blew my chances with Jane. She'll never speak to me again.

But what really sucked was that none of this was my fault.

I woke up this morning feeling on top of the world. It seemed like ages ago. By nightfall, everyone that I cared about had turned on me for no good reason. I'd done nothing wrong.

Well, everybody except for my friends: Slick, Mario, Aldo and Ralphie. I had a feeling they'd be busting on me bad tomorrow about what happened tonight, but they wouldn't be mad at me, and they wouldn't hurt me deeply as I felt at that moment. They knew it wasn't my fault that I left them. What choice did I have when Sonny ordered me out of the car? No more choice than they had in the matter. They realized this.

We all jumped, taken by surprise when we had stopped at a red light and heard the sharp raps on the passenger door window. It's a wonder the glass hadn't shattered as Sonny knocked, his ring hitting hard against it.

Slick rolled down the window, and immediately Sonny's eyes locked on me sitting in the backseat, sandwiched between Ralphie and Mario. "C, outta the car," he demanded.

At any point up until then, I would have been moving towards him the moment he said 'outta', but this time, I hesitated. Maybe for no other reason than because I noted his mood hadn't changed since I left him less than a half hour ago. If anything, he looked even more angry and dangerous now than he had then.

Slick didn't know Sonny as well as I did, but still I think he must have been either on something or just plain blind not to realize this. Through poor judgement, or perhaps just pure stupidity, he smiled up at him.

"Sonny, it's ok, he's with us."

As if Slick thought _that_ would actually reassure him?

And what happened, as I could have easily predicted, is it had the opposite effect. It enraged Sonny further.

He directed his attention at Slick, glaring at him. His hand pointed, as one might symbolize a gun, less than an inch from Slick's face.

"Mind your business you," he growled. His tone, as well as his eyes, relayed an unmistakable threat if Slick dared to make another sound.

Now Sonny had never liked my friends. He made no secret of it, either. He'd tell me all the time not to hang around with them; they were nothing but trouble, they'd all end up dead or in jail anyway, and if I wasn't careful they'd take me down with them. Morons and jerk-offs he would call them, adding "And Slick is the biggest moron jerk-off of them all."

And I would say to him "Yeah Sonny, I understand what you're saying, but they're my friends."

"With friends like that, you don't need enemies." He'd reply.

The thing was, though, I didn't understand why Sonny felt that way. All of them, even Slick, never treated Sonny with anything except politeness and respect. Even behind his back, they never said a bad word about him. Sonny's strong dislike for them seemed to me to be just as unjustified as my father's strong dislike for Sonny.

But I didn't listen to my father's warnings about Sonny, and I didn't listen to Sonny's warnings about my friends.

But just because I didn't listen to either of them didn't mean that I wouldn't try to appease them, anyway. "I know you're right Sonny," I'd tell him, "and I'll be careful, I promise."

Then I would get one of his favorite speeches in return.

My father had his own about 'wasted talent'; Sonny had his about 'making choices'.

"Let me tell you something C. I know I've told you this before, but I'm going to keep telling you until it finally sinks into that head of yours. Your life is formed by a series of choices. And you better be _very_ careful about the ones you make, because even the smallest ones can shape your life forever."

A series of choices. I thought about this as I continued staring at the floor mat, still refusing to look at Sonny. It slowly occurred to me that he was right.

Some choices are hard. We struggle with them before making a decision. Like when I was nine years old and circumstances presented me with a choice of whether or not to rat Sonny out to the police for killing that man in the street.

I argued both sides of that issue in my mind as the detectives led me and my father to identify the shooter in a lineup, but it wasn't until the very last moment, as I stood before Sonny and our eyes met, that I made a final decision.

"No sir, it wasn't him."

That one moment, that one choice, definitely shaped my life. I couldn't even imagine how different everything would be for me if I'd just told the truth: "Yes sir, it was him. He had the gun and pulled the trigger. He shot the man 4 times."

Choices like that, we just know will bring some consequences or impact on our lives. This is why we struggle with them, carefully weighing both sides, trying to figure out all the angles before making a final decision. But the ones we really need to be careful about are the ones that seem small and meaningless. The ones in which we make a decision, but we're not even aware that we have.

Like a few days ago, when Slick and the rest of my friends attacked and beat up those colored boys in the street for no reason other than they were riding their bicycles in our neighborhood. At the time, I wasn't even aware I was making a choice as I ran out there with them and restrained one of the boys. He turned out to be Jane's brother.

I didn't hurt him, I didn't hurt any of them. In fact, I was just trying to hold him down to keep Slick and the guys off him. I didn't realize that I'd made a choice to be part of it, even though I really didn't do anything. But just because I didn't think, I wasn't careful, and I didn't choose to walk away when the confrontation started- I now lost Jane forever.

And what of tonight? I unconsciously chose to get into that car with my friends. It wasn't a deliberate choice. I was barely aware of it at all.

My mind had been replaying the last few hours. The look on Jane's face. Anger, hurt and disgust as she walked away leaving me just standing in the road.

The fight with my father. He wore the same expression as Jane when I stormed out, leaving him just standing there in the kitchen.

Then the same look on Sonny's face as he accused me, _me_ , of all people, of trying to kill him. He slapped me hard. Twice. Sonny had never laid a hand on me before in anger, not even once, no matter what- and it hurt. But nowhere near as much as his words.

I left him, Jimmy and Danny just standing there on the sidewalk as I walked away stunned, wiping the tears from my face. I felt completely drained, both emotionally and mentally. So when I saw the car parked up the road, my friends' smiling and welcoming faces, beckoning me to join them, there was no choice to be made. I didn't even give it a single thought as I climbed right into the back seat.

But as we drove, I saw the Molotov cocktails in the box next to me on the floor. Slick passed a gun to Ralphie, who complained that Slick kept the bigger one for himself. They explained their plan and where we were going, and I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted out, but by then it was too late. I couldn't tell them to pull over so I could leave. Not now. What would they say? I already knew. They'd say I was chicken. They'd call me a dog, a mutt. Tell me that I had no heart.

Whether I wanted to or not, I was already there so I had to go along. I just wished over and again that I'd never gotten in the car with them, because somehow I just knew that at some point, in some way, I'd come to regret my unintended choice.

Sonny was right. Even the small choices, if you're not careful, could mess you up pretty bad.

Slick obviously didn't know about carefully considering one's choices either, because even after Sonny had given him a warning, he actually tried it again. As if he really believed that Sonny didn't understand him the first time?

"Sonny, c'mon, he's with us and"-

That's as far as he got. In just one swift move, Sonny's hand shot into the car and grabbed the back of Slick's head, then flew forward smashing his face into the dashboard. It made a loud 'splat', and drops of blood sprayed the windshield.

I saw there was a larger, circular pattern of blood left on the dash as Slick's head came back up. Both of his hands dripped with blood as they covered his nose and mouth.

"Oh my nose!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with an expression indicating that even after seeing the mood that Sonny was in, even after being given a warning that would have caused someone twice his age and size to back down and shut up, Sonny's actions were still a total surprise to him. A completely unpredictable and unexpected turn of events.

Now that I was thinking about it, he had to be the biggest moron jerkoff of all _not_ see it coming. Sonny was right about this, as well.

Sonny's finger was back, pointing right between Slick's eyes, "I said, shut up you."

His face and voice made it clear that things would only get worse if Slick so much as even breathed too loudly. This time Slick, like Aldo, Ralphie and Mario, got the hint. Sonny grabbed the door handle, yanked it open with a squeal of protest from the hinges, and looked directly at me, "Move. Now."

Ralphie, who was sitting on my right, immediately pushed the front seat forward, not even caring that Slick was sitting there. He then grabbed me by the jacket and shoved me out towards Sonny.

Maybe my friends were morons, but even a moron knew that being in a position that blocked the path between Sonny and whatever Sonny wanted, especially when he was in a mood like this, wasn't exactly good for one's health.

My foot caught on the box of cocktails on the way out, and even though it was covered, the glass clinked together as I stumbled through the doorway, almost falling on my face onto the ground.

Sonny caught me and dragged me out the rest of the way, passing me to Jimmy, who led me to his car, parked directly behind us. I knew then that they'd been following us since we left.

As we approached the Cadillac, I heard Sonny issue a final threat, "For the last time, stay away from this kid. I won't say it again." And then a door slammed shut.

Without a word, Jimmy opened the rear passenger door. After I slipped in, he shut it and took the seat in front of me, still silent.

Danny, sitting behind the wheel this whole time, was the first to speak. "How you doing, C?"

I sighed. It was good to hear a friendly voice. One that wasn't getting an excited thrill over the prospect of hurting people, and not one that wanted to hurt me. "Not so good, Danny" I answered honestly.

I don't know if he intended to respond or not, because just then the door to my left opened and Sonny joined me in the back seat. Danny checked us in the rearview mirror.

"Just drive," Sonny ordered. Danny obeyed.

We went down the road in complete silence for a few minutes, all three men in the car sitting motionless, staring straight ahead. Now, this was a bit of a contrast for me, to jump from one car with music blasting, with four guys all laughing boisterously and yelling to be heard over the radio as well as each other, to find myself now traveling in what seemed like a rolling luxury tomb.

But what really bothered me was why was I even here?

I snuck a quick sideways glance at Sonny. If he noticed or not, I really didn't know. I just assumed he'd gone through all the trouble to follow me, then stop us, pull me out of the car, and put me in here to talk to me. But he hadn't said a single word yet. So, what was this really about? Some sort of bizarre kidnapping?

To hell with it. If he wasn't going to say anything, then I would.

"I can't believe it. After all this time you don't even trust me?"

I blurted it out a little more forcefully than I intended to, but it was true. I couldn't believe it. Not even when it came from my own mouth.

A barely audible sigh escaped from him. When he turned to me, the anger had gone from his face, replaced with... well, I really don't know. I'd never seen him like that before. At the time, I thought it was sadness, but now looking back, it may have been regret.

"Listen C." His voice was low, soft, "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just-"

As soon as I heard the first line, my own anger bubbled up from my gut. It's not that he don't trust me?

My mind quickly replayed our 'disagreement' that had taken place on the sidewalk, less than an hour ago.

'Was there really a Jane?!' he had demanded to know, both of his large hands firmly gripping the collar of my jacket, he slammed my back into the wall for emphasis.

It didn't sound as if he believed me.

'Don't lie to me!' he had yelled in my face.

 _Slap!_

'Don't you fucking lie to me!'

That didn't sound very trusting to me.

Now he was going to sit here and say, 'It's not that I don't trust you?'. Just who is the real liar here, Sonny?

Yeah, I was angry.

"No, I'm not going to listen." This time my tone was intended, "You don't even believe me that there really was a Jane. Don't you think it could have been in the car when I picked it up, and that me and Jane could have got killed?! You never thought that, did you?"

He just stared straight ahead in silence. Was that a yes? Or no? Or was he just thinking it over?

I had no idea what was going through his mind at that moment, but I was aware that my anger was starting to give way to an uncomfortable feeling. I didn't like dealing with Sonny when he was pissed off, but at least it was familiar ground, and experience had taught me exactly how to proceed when he was in such a mood.

But this unresponsive man sitting next to me, just staring straight ahead at nothing in front of him, his face completely unreadable- this I didn't care for at all. It felt as if he was a total stranger to me, and I had no idea how to speak to him.

I tried to sound more curious than accusing, "Don't you trust anybody?"

Well, at least that time he gave me an answer.


	2. A matter of heart

I lifted my head and cast another glance his way. Yeah, I was still hurt and a bit angry, but I had a growing feeling that something was just so wrong here. This wasn't Sonny. I mean, it was him of course, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was like someone else had taken over his mind and body. The man who grabbed me on the sidewalk earlier- screaming at me, slapping me, accusing me of doing something I'd never do, calling me a liar- that wasn't Sonny. Not the Sonny I knew, anyway.

The man who confronted my friends and I tonight? Well, okay, he seemed like Sonny, but a really pissed off version.

I thought about it some more. He was furious from the moment he started banging on the window. Why?

To me his anger seemed out of place and quite over the top. He could've just opened the door and asked me to come out and take a ride with him. And even after what just happened a short time before, I probably would have gone. And not just because I wanted out of the car anyway, either.

And that attack on Slick? What was he thinking?

Yeah, okay, Slick may be a moron jerkoff, but still, with the amount of force he used, he could've easily cracked Slick's head open and killed him, and for what? Slick presented no danger, and in his own moronic way was only trying to reason with him.

If Sonny had really been himself, would he have reacted as violently as he did? I wasn't so sure about that.

And now here he was, sitting next to me, saying hurtful things and doing his best to imitate a corpse. What's going on here? What's really on your mind, Sonny? I wondered to myself.

I tried to remember when I last saw him acting normal. It was earlier tonight, when I returned his car. It was me who'd been out of sorts then, thinking about the fight with Jane and her brother, wishing like hell that I could take back the things I'd said to them.

Sonny asked me why I was back so early. He tried to get me to talk to him, but I really didn't feel like discussing it. I knew tomorrow I'd feel differently. I'd tell him everything then, and hopefully he would come up with the right answer on how to fix it. He almost always did. But at that moment, I just wanted to go home and be alone.

He, Jimmy and Danny were on their way to the track, and he invited me to come along. I politely declined and walked away.

"C'mon guys, we'll take my car." I heard him say as I walked up the stoop and entered my building.

That was the last time I saw 'normal' Sonny. The next time I seen him wasn't even an hour later, when he grabbed me from the sidewalk and threw me against the wall.

Of course, I knew what had happened. He told me at some point between calling me a liar and threatening me. Right after I left them, the car didn't start. They opened the hood to check why, and found something attached to the engine.

Someone had placed a bomb there. Inside Sonny's car. It was meant to go off when he turned the key to start it.

For the first time tonight, I let that actually sink in.

A chill ran through my body.

Despite whatever Sonny may have thought, I was absolutely sure it hadn't been put there while I had his car. It was impossible. I never left his car even for a moment.

Now if things had gone according to plan tonight, Jane and I were supposed to go to the movies and the car would've been left unattended for a few hours. Then maybe…

But because her brother lied to her, we had that argument and didn't go, so the car never left my sight.

That meant the bomb really was in the car when I picked it up!

This hit me like a hard punch to the gut. Only God knows why it didn't go off, but another shiver ran through me as I realized how close I came to being blown to bits in a sudden explosion, right there in front of the bar. And I would never even have known what happened.

But we both know who that bomb was really meant for, don't we, Sonny? I thought to myself, my eyes still on him. And that's what has you in this state right now, isn't it?

I tried to put myself in his place. He doesn't know who's responsible, this is obvious- he even accused me. He's probably just trying to work backwards through the timeline. This would be the logical thing to do: where he had his car, for how long, who may have had access to it, etc..

I tried to figure out what I knew.

Sonny had arrived around noon and parked his car directly in front of the bar. As far as I noticed, his car remained there the entire time until I picked up the keys from him at about 5:30pm.

The car started right up for me without hesitation and certainly without blowing up. I took the car and returned a little less than an hour later, much earlier than he expected. When he tried to ask me what happened, why I was back - how had I seemed, from his point of view? Distant. Upset. I didn't want to speak to him. I didn't want to hang out with him. I just wanted to get away from him.

Wow. Now that I thought about it, I guess that really did look bad.

Maybe now I could see what made him accuse me. Logically, it made sense, and if I were him, I may have suspected me at first too, but only for a moment. His brain may have given him a logical possibility, but his heart should have known better. Mine would have.

So, did somebody plant it while the car was sitting in front of the bar?

It was highly unlikely. The car was easily accessible, sitting on a public street. The top was down, and anyone could have approached it at any time. But with all the guys coming and going at the bar, not to mention some just hanging around outside, Sonny had too many sets of eyes out there. If someone had even let their gaze linger on his car for a little too long, let alone actually touched it, they would have said something.

Okay, so it was probably already in the car before Sonny arrived. That means he got as lucky as I did.

From there, only Sonny knew where his car was and who may have had access to it. All I knew was that he never lent his car out to anyone. That's why I was so surprised when he offered it to me to pick Jane up for our movie date.

Yeah, did you forget that Sonny, when you accused me of planning this? That it was actually _you_ who offered me the car. I didn't ask for it, or even hint about it.

He said he wanted me to make a good impression, and just the thought of that, along with feeling honored that he trusted me with something he trusted almost no one else with, had me accepting his offer without even a second thought.

The choices we make. Right?

What if I'd just turned down the offer? Just told him 'Thanks Sonny, I appreciate it, but me and Jane like walking together.'

Well, that wouldn't have had any effect on what happened with Jane. That was caused by the poor choice I made a few days before. But at least I wouldn't be on bad terms with Sonny right now, or my father either, for that matter.

My mind traveled back to that argument.

I returned Sonny's car, and after declining the offer to go to the track, I went straight home, still sulking about what happened with Jane. I wasn't mad at her, but I was angry with her brother for lying, telling her I was the one who beat him up when all I tried to do was help him.

But I think I was even more angry at myself. I can't believe what I said, what I called him. Why did I do that? Where did that even come from? I didn't feel that way at all.

I entered the apartment, went straight into my room and shut the door. On my way there, I saw my father sitting in the living room, but I just rushed by. I didn't want to speak with him any more than I wanted to speak with Sonny. In fact, I probably wanted to speak with my father even less, already knowing his opinions of people dating outside 'their own'.

But as soon as I plopped myself onto the bed, my door opened and there he was. Right away, I could tell by the look on his face that there was going to be an argument. But about what? He knew nothing about Jane, and he had no idea where I went tonight or why. So, what did I do to deserve this look he was giving me?

I didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"What were you doing driving Sonny's car?"

It was a question, but also very much an accusation. My heart skipped a beat. Did he know about Jane, after all?

"What are you talking about Dad?"

"What do you mean, 'what am I talking about'?" he shot back. "I just saw you driving Sonny's car. I don't want you driving his car around, I don't like that."

"Dad, listen" -

I was going to tell him I'd had a bad night and just wanted to be left alone. That we'd discuss everything in the morning (by then I may have a good cover story, as well), but I didn't get the chance. He cut me right off.

"No, you listen to me!" He walked over, pointing his finger at me, "I don't want you driving his car. I don't want you in his car. I don't want you anywhere near his car. You got that?"

The only thing I got was that I didn't need this. I had enough problems to occupy my thoughts without dealing with this nonsense. Why the sudden interest in whether or not I was in Sonny's car? He never mentioned it before. Over the years, he more than often told me to stay away from Sonny. To stay away from the bar. Now, suddenly, it was stay away from his car as well?

What was his problem?

To me, his irrational hatred towards Sonny made no sense. Well, no sense at the time, but the circumstances around Sonny's car had since changed. Turned out my father was right, and I really wished I'd just turned down Sonny's offer to take it. That I'd just stayed away from his car. I couldn't believe the coincidence. Son of a bitch, it's almost like he knew that there was a...

He knew.

It felt like I'd been jolted. I don't think anything detectable happened on the outside, but inside I jumped.

 _No_.

What the hell was I thinking? My father may have hated Sonny, and would like nothing more than to see him disappear; but _no_. He knew nothing about cars, having never owned one himself, and knew even less about explosives. Besides, he was a good man. Despite how he felt about Sonny, he'd never wish to be responsible for his death. This I knew.

But a small voice of doubt raised an objection. He'd never be directly responsible for such, but what about indirectly?

A scene began to play in my imagination.

What if, one day, a couple of men got on his bus? What if, as he was driving down 187th they asked him if he knew Sonny?

He'd probably politely answer 'Yes', and then clam right up. Sonny wasn't one of his favorite topics for discussion. But then what if they showed him a C-note, and asked him to just point out Sonny's car? Would he do it?  
In my mind I watched, horrified, as my father silently took the money and pocketed it while he pointed to the red Cadillac convertible with the top down, parked in front of the bar. The men smiled at each other before another 100-dollar bill appeared.

"And maybe you know what days and times it's usually parked here?"

My father pocketed this as well, and began speaking, barely above a whisper.

I winced and the scene suddenly stopped, as if it was a film that snapped in the projector, and I was back, sitting in the rear of Jimmy's car with Sonny.

No. That couldn't happen, I told myself. My father would never do that.

Are you sure? the voice of doubt asked. He could just tell himself he really didn't know why they were asking, and that he did nothing wrong by just answering a few simple questions. Besides, whatever was going on between those men and Sonny was none of his business anyway.

 _Shut up._

It was my heart that answered.

My dad isn't stupid at all. He would've known as soon as they asked about the car that those men were up to no good. He would've waved the money away and told them to take a seat or get off the bus.

I remembered how my father had a chance to get rid of Sonny almost nine years ago, and do it with a completely clean conscience. All he had to do was give me a single nod of approval, and I probably would have ratted Sonny out to the police for killing that man. But I didn't get his nod. In fact, everything he said and did indicated that he didn't want me to say anything at all.

But as I stood there that day, looking at Sonny in the lineup, the detective's hand resting protectively on my right shoulder and my father by my side holding my left hand- something happened.

He held my hand the entire time as the detective led me down the line, asking me about each man. But when we stopped in front of Sonny, and the detective asked "Was it him?" there was a communication between my dad and me that the detective never noticed. It was a type of communication that only a father and son with a close relationship, as we had, could understand.

I squeezed his hand, not only to let him know it was Sonny who did it, but also to ask what should I say? Yes or No? Then I glanced away from Sonny and up to my father to make sure he got the message. And he had.

He looked at Sonny, who returned his gaze. I had only the vaguest idea that they were communicating with each other on some level with their eyes. My father turned back to me and gave my hand a firm squeeze back. I looked up at him and I knew just then what he wanted me to say.

"No sir, it wasn't him."

Because my father is a good man. He may not have agreed with what Sonny did, but he didn't want it to go any further. And I know, deep down, as much as he hated Sonny, he wished him no harm and wouldn't even consider for a moment helping anyone who did.

I had no idea who was involved in planting the bomb or why, but my father had absolutely nothing to do with it. I know this because I know him. And I love and trust him.

The voice of doubt disappeared, knowing as I did that my heart, as usual, was right. I felt ashamed for thinking such a thing, even if it was only for a brief moment.

I looked over at Sonny, the only other man that I loved and trusted as much as my father.

Is that why I'm here? I wondered. Is that what you're thinking, Sonny? That it took you a little longer than me to check your heart for advice, but once you finally did, you knew I was telling the truth? And you feel bad about the way you treated me, but you just don't know how to say it?'

He was still staring ahead, lost in his own thoughts. That would have been nice, but I knew it wasn't true. I had asked him flat out if he trusted me. If he trusted anybody. He gave his answer.

No.

If his heart was telling him something, he still wasn't listening. Like me with my father. How many times did my father tell me the right thing, but I just wouldn't listen? Then I suddenly realized it happened again earlier tonight, didn't it?

It was during that argument that we had over Sonny's car. At some point, he said something about Sonny that caused me to angrily retort "Dad, you're wrong. You just don't know Sonny."

He came right back at me. "I don't have to know him! I know how he thinks and if you fuck up, he'll hurt you, just like anyone else!"

"You're wrong!" I repeated. "Sonny trusts me!"

Did I really say this? Yes, I did. A few hours ago, I actually believed it.

"No, you're wrong!" My father gripped my shoulder and gave me a quick shake, as if to wake me up. "Don't you understand? That man doesn't trust anybody. He can't. The sooner you know this, the better. How many times have I told you? People don't respect him, they fear him. There's a big difference!"

I didn't wake up, right then. I didn't hear his words. But I was awake now, and listening. I knew my father was right.

How could Sonny trust anybody? Especially now? Somebody out there seriously wanted him dead. And there was a good chance that one or more people close to him played a part in it. How do you figure out who? How do you even deal with something like that?

You take a step back, and look at the people around you, as if you're seeing them for the first time from the outside. No one is above suspicion. You watch them very carefully and scrutinize everything they say, everything they do. You tell your heart to shut up, because emotions, sentiment and trust are luxuries that you just can't afford, no matter how much money you have. The price is much too high.

I realized right then that I was no longer angry. Or hurt. I just felt sad. Not for me, but for Sonny.

I spoke to him, telling him how I honestly felt. "That's a horrible way to live."

He still wouldn't look my way, but he replied, his voice still low and soft, "For me, it's the only way."

I really don't know why I did what I did next. I'd certainly never done anything like this before with him. Maybe it was because I was just thinking about that day many years ago with the police and Sonny in the lineup. I can't really say.

But I reached out my hand to find his dangling from the edge of the fold-down armrest between us. I cupped my hand over the top of his, and as I gave it a gentle squeeze, I told him "I know."

This time there was no question communicated in this action. I simply wanted to assure him that I really did understand and that all was forgiven. And I believed that on some level, he needed to know this as well.

His fingers contracted, clasping my own for a brief second. I knew then, that he had received the message and appreciated it.  
 **  
**I pulled my hand back, glancing at the two men in the front seat. Jimmy and Danny hadn't seen or noticed this exchange, which was fine. As I said before, it was a type of communication that only those with a close relationship, as we had, could understand.

I leaned back into the plush seating and let him know the truth, "But not for me."

He finally turned to face me, giving me a familiar, small, tight lipped smile, and my heart jumped because right there, even if just for that moment, I saw the Sonny that I knew. My friend.

"That's fucking right." His hand formed his trademark three finger gesture as he pointed at me, "And don't you forget it."


	3. A simple favor

I let out a long, drawn out sigh and shook my head. "Believe me, I won't."

He leaned back, gazing straight ahead and remained silent for a minute or so. When he finally spoke, it wasn't to me. "Danny, pull over."

Danny turned to Jimmy, who gave a quick one shoulder shrug.

He glanced into the rearview mirror. "Where? We're on the parkway."

"So, get off at the next exit, find a spot, then pull over." He spoke as if giving instructions to a four-year-old child.

"Okay Sonny."

Not another word was said as we pulled off the road and into a sizeable, dimly lit parking lot of what appeared to be a tavern. No light was shining on the dirty wooden sign with faded letters affixed to the wall next to the front door, making it difficult to see the name of the place. But we could see lights inside through the smoky windows and hear the faint music from within, though I couldn't tell what song or even type.

Danny shut the car engine down and waited for his new orders, which came quickly enough. "Why don't you two go in and have a couple of drinks?"

Sonny's suggestion was really more of a command, especially when he added "And take your time while doing it."

Danny looked happy and relieved, as if he was hoping that Sonny would say that from the moment he spotted the place. Jimmy, on the other hand, protested "I don't know Sonny. I don't think that's a good idea."

Sonny glared at him for a few seconds before responding. "Were in the middle of fucking nowhere. I think I'll be okay on my own for a while without a babysitter."

Jimmy still looked uncertain, but he nodded anyway and exited the car to join Danny, who was almost to the tavern door.

Now it was just us.

He seemed lost in thought, so when he didn't say anything for a minute or two, I figured I'd start. "You alright Sonny?"

"Yeah." He paused for a moment then continued. "Don't mind me, I just have a lot going on right now."

"It's okay, I understand."

I thought about my next question for only a moment before it came out. "You don't know, do you?" Only it really didn't sound like a question; it was more of a statement.

But there was clearly a question in his expression when he turned to me, so I clarified, "I mean, you don't know who it was that did that to your car, right?"

He shook his head slowly. "It'll be found out soon enough. I already know where and when it happened. People are looking into this right now, and it's just a matter of time, that's all. Just time." his voice trailed off.

I tried to help, "Well, have you pissed anybody off lately?"

"C, let me tell you something. I piss people off every day, due to the fact that I _am_ still breathing. It could be anybody, it could be everybody. But what I do know is that whoever this asshole is, he's not a man, he's a fucking coward. He don't have the balls to come at me straight on, like a man. Fucking chickenshit coward." The disgust was clear in his voice.

I spoke honestly. "Let's face it, not many do." I meant that as a compliment, but he didn't seem to take it as such.

He shook his head again. "I never asked this of you before, C. In fact, I could probably count on one hand the amount of people in my life that I've asked, and still have fingers left over. We both know I'm not in the habit of asking anybody for anything, but I'm asking you now to do me a favor, okay?"

He was right, he'd never asked for a favor from me, and I couldn't remember ever hearing him ask anyone else, either. There was no question in my mind, though, that I'd do anything he asked, and I'd try to help him in any way possible.

Maybe I didn't have his trust yet, but I could still try to earn it. But it wasn't just that, I truly did want to help him.

"Yeah, of course, Sonny. I'll do whatever you want. Just say it, and I'll take care of it."

His reaction wasn't as I expected, though. Instead of being pleased, he stared at me sharply before turning his head and looking down. He shook his head slowly, and his fingers rubbed his temple as if he had a headache.

I'd never seen him do that before. But I knew he wasn't himself tonight, and I couldn't blame him, what with all that happened. Anyway, I was starting to become a little uncomfortable myself, wondering what this favor was that he appeared hesitant to ask of me?

"Okay, good." He finally spoke, but he didn't sound like he thought it was good at all.

I didn't have time to think about it, though, as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his gun. Holding it flat in the palm of his hand, he extended towards me. "Take it."

I was barely aware that I automatically recoiled from it, as if he'd offered me a poisonous cobra. What the hell was he giving me _that_ for?

Maybe he did see my reaction, because he made a quick jab in my direction with his hand as he repeated "Take it. It won't bite, I promise."

I was surprised to watch my hand reach out, and slowly and gingerly remove it from his. It was the first time I held a gun. I had looked over the ones that Nicky Zero sold from time to time, but never actually touched them.

It felt cold, and was heavier than I thought it would be. I looked it over, studying it, mindful not to touch the trigger. Knowing Sonny as I did, there was no doubt in my mind it was loaded.

Not much light from the streetlamp in the parking lot penetrated the heavily-tinted windows of the Caddy, but I noted that it was a five-shot revolver. I could make out some of the stamp as .38 S&W, followed by some indistinguishable characters.

"In a little while they'll come back. Danny will drive."

Sonny spoke in a low monotone. I listened to him, but honestly, not much was sinking in. I admit, I was almost hypnotized by what he'd given to me.

"...where it's dark...C? You paying attention?"

"Yeah Sonny, you said 'where it's dark'" I repeated while wondering, where what was dark? I missed that part.

"Right," he continued, "That's very important. So as soon as we get on that stretch, I'll give you a signal. Look straight down, don't turn your head towards me, but watch my hand."

I hadn't the slightest idea what he was talking about, but found myself facing the floormat once again, casting a sideways glance at him. His hand was resting on his leg, just above the knee. His index finger tapped his leg. It was very subtle, looking more like a twitch than a tap, "Got it?"

"Yeah." I saw it, but got it? No. I had no idea what this was about. It was obviously related to something he said that I ignored while I was looking over my new acquisition, but I wasn't going to let him know this.

"Good. Now here's the trick. I'm counting on you."

As soon as I heard that, I looked up at him. He was counting on me for something? He had my full attention now.

"As soon as you see the signal, be very careful; don't let your movement attract any attention. When you pull it out, you keep your head down and still until the last moment. Then quickly plug Jimmy right in the back of head. One shot only, I'm serious about that. Do _not_ fire again, unless you see him getting up. If you do it right, he won't. But remember, it has to be quick because..."

Sonny was still talking, but my brain had frozen. No more information was coming in.

Plug? Jimmy? Where?

"What?"

That last word I said out loud.

I looked at him with an expression that surely appeared as incredulous and confused as I felt. Certainly, I must have misunderstood him.

He stopped talking. His tone contained mild exasperation when he continued. "Stay with me, C. I said it has to be done quickly. Once we get back on the parkway, it's too late. There's too many cars. The noise and flash will attract attention. That's no good. Then we drive"-

"No, wait!" My throat didn't feel hoarse, but it sure sounded like it as I cut him off. "What was that? With Jimmy?"

He appeared to be trying to hold back the annoyance from my interrupting him once again. He reached around behind me and jabbed me near the base of my skull.

"Right there, kid. It'll shut him off like a switch. He won't know what hit him."

He withdrew his hand and went on. "Now there's a place. It's just north of here..."

Again, I tuned him out. My thoughts raced around in circles, trying to process what he was asking me to do, but how could I make any sense of it when I couldn't even believe it? This was Jimmy. His main man. What the fuck?

He's completely lost it.

First, he accused me. Now, he wants to kill Jimmy. No, even worse, he wants _me_ to kill Jimmy. Maybe something in his mind had snapped when they found the bomb, I don't know. All I did know for sure was that I wanted no part in this.

"Sonny, I can't do that." The rasp in my voice sounded even worse. I tried to clear my throat.

Once again he stopped, but I was grateful he didn't seem annoyed this time. He stared at me for a moment or two, like he was trying to understand what I meant, though I felt I couldn't have possibly been clearer. Or maybe I could have, because he didn't seem to get it.

"You're worried about Danny, kid? Don't be, he knows the score, that's why he's driving. He'll help us clean up once we get there. It's upstate, a few hours travel time, and once we get there..."

Danny? Who cares? I hadn't even thought of him. My mind was on Jimmy. What the hell could he have done to deserve this?

But I knew what, didn't I? Sonny's car. Sonny said he now knew where and when it happened. If so, then Jimmy deserved what was coming.

But Sonny also said he didn't know who was behind it. Perhaps that was true as well. This would make Jimmy just an accomplice, but still; such a vicious betrayal called for nothing less.

But if Jimmy was in on it, wouldn't killing him outright without first trying to get any information be a stupid move? Sonny never made stupid moves.

What the hell was going on here?

These thoughts just circled in my head, until a new one popped in. Was it true that Sonny never made a stupid move? Did he or did he not accuse me first? He was wrong about that of course, that was a fact. How do I know he's not wrong again now?

I wasn't going any further with this until he explained himself. I wanted, no I _needed_ , to know. "But Sonny, why?"

An exasperated sigh, as yet again I forced him to halt his monologue. "Why? What do you mean 'why'? Would you rather we just left him and the car on the side of the parkway and hitchhiked home?"

He paused, before I not only saw, but also felt, his eyes lock onto mine. "C'mon C, use your head here."

I barely noticed the change in his tone, I had just one thing on my mind. "No, I mean, why Jimmy?"

The corner of his mouth twitched as he turned away from me, looking out his window towards the bar. He didn't say anything for a moment or two. "Why? What do you care why? That's not your problem. It doesn't matter why."

"It matters to me!" I blurted out before I even knew I was going to speak.

Without turning from the window, he just shrugged, "And why's that?"

'Why's that?' he asks me? Oh yeah, something had to have let go in his brain. He's lost it. There was no other possible explanation. He was asking _me_ to kill a man. Not just a man, but a close friend of his, and acting like it was nothing more than sending me across the street to get coffee for the guys.

Could his judgement even be trusted now? What if Jimmy was innocent, as I was? I knew right there and then what I was going to do, but before I could say anything, he turned back to me.

"You know, C,"- he pointed at me with his familiar three-finger gesture - "I don't get you. Wasn't it just a couple minutes ago you told me 'Of course Sonny. I'll do anything you want. Just say it.'" He raised the pitch in his voice as if to mock my own, before it returned to normal. "Well, okay then. This is what I want. And now I'm saying it. That's fucking why."

I looked up and met his gaze. His eyes were unreadable, as always. "If this is what you want, why not do it yourself then?"

After a slight pause, he gave me a quick shrug.

"Because I'm not the one sitting behind him. You are."

He said it as if it should have been completely obvious and he just couldn't understand how it was possible that I didn't know this.

"Also, Jimmy isn't stupid. He knows that by now I've figured out how and when this happened, just as he knows there's a good chance that I've already put two and two together and I'm on to him. He's panicking. He appears to be looking out the windshield, just watching the road, but I see him. If I so much as even slightly shift my position, he tenses right up. His attention is focused on me. But you? He'd never suspect you. Not even for a moment."

While that may have been true, it didn't make me feel any better about the situation. I searched my mind for the right words to say.

"Besides," he added with a small sigh, "Even so, Jimmy and I still go way back together. It just doesn't seem right for me to do it. And don't forget," - the three fingers came back up and pointed in my direction - "you agreed to do me a favor."

I glanced down at the gun in my hand for the last time. Then to Sonny for what I expected would be the last time, as well. I placed the gun down on the armrest between us. "Yeah, well I'm sorry about that Sonny, but it don't seem right for me to do it either. You do what you want. You know me, I won't say a word to anyone. I agree with you that this isn't my problem."

I opened the car door and out of habit found myself saying, as I usually did when we parted ways, "See you later, Sonny." But despite everything, I still felt a pang of regret knowing that this time, I wouldn't.

As I started to exit, his hand grabbed the back of my jacket. "C, get back in the car."


	4. Real friends don't

"Sorry Sonny, I got to go." Stepping out of the car, I managed to free myself from his grip, or maybe he just released me; I really don't know.

As I pulled myself out, I glanced at my surroundings. We really were in the middle of fucking nowhere, and it would be a long walk home. There was nothing but dark woods around us, no signs of life at all - except I could see headlights whizzing by on the parkway just past the tree line, and the tavern itself.

A man and woman emerged from its door, their arms wrapped around each other, giggling as if sharing a private joke. I could go in there. I was sure that they'd have a phone I could use, but Jimmy and Danny were inside and I didn't want to see either of them. I told Sonny I'd keep my mouth shut, but I wondered if I actually saw Jimmy, could I keep my word? I wasn't so certain.

As I went to shut the car door, Sonny called out again. "C'mon, get back in the car."

This time, something in his voice made me stop. Was he really laughing at me?

I turned around to look at him, peering into the partially open doorway, ready to bolt in case I found myself staring at the wrong end of the gun that I'd been holding until a minute ago. After all, he'd already said he didn't trust me.

But there was no gun. It had disappeared from the armrest and his hands were empty, though his facial expression was not. I couldn't believe it. He was smiling.

Well, it wasn't his real smile. It was more of a satisfied smirk, and to me that was even worse. If this wasn't bad enough, he added, "I was just messing with you. What the fuck you really think of me? You think I'd actually involve you, or even allow you to be involved, in shit like that? Haven't you listened to _anything_ I've said to you for all these years?"

Just.

Messing.

With me.

Just messing with me?!

Sometimes the anger within us starts off at a simmer and gradually increases to a rolling boil. Other times, it goes from room temperature to explosive hot in a matter of a second. It was the latter I felt at that moment.

A searing heat rushed through my body. I felt my cheeks flush red, and the explosion in my mind as it hit its peak. Before I even knew what I was going to say, the words flew from my mouth, "Messing with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? That's supposed to be some kind of a fucking joke to you? There was nothing funny about that! Nothing at all! What the fuck"-

"C, for the last time, get back in the car now." He cut me right off. His tone changed. He was serious now, and that was an order. But he wasn't looking at me; he was staring straight ahead at something through the windshield.

I looked to my right to see what he was focused on. It was the man and woman who had come out of the bar. Walking through the parking lot, they stopped about twenty-five feet from the front of Jimmy's car and were no longer giggling. They were just listening and watching with a mix of uncertainty and suspicion. I could see their heads moving back and forth as they glanced at me, then to the car- probably trying to see who was inside- then back to me again. She turned to her partner and whispered something.

With a loud, frustrated sigh, I climbed back into the car and slammed the door so hard that I was mildly surprised I didn't hear the glass shatter. But it was Jimmy's car. It was probably equipped with some super-strong, bullet-proof windows or something like it. Now _that_ wouldn't have surprised me at all.

But I didn't give it more than a fleeting thought. I was still pissed off and I really didn't want to be back in that car sitting beside him. But a deep-rooted aversion that I had to attracting unwanted attention- especially attention that may cause a potential problem for either or both of us- overruled what I wanted for now.

I folded my arms and threw myself back into my seat. I figured I looked just like a petulant child to him, but I really didn't give a fuck.

"Nothing funny about that," I muttered, repeating myself as I watched through the windshield as the couple slowly walked away through the small lot, while throwing one or two last glances over their shoulders at us.

"Good," He responded and I couldn't help but notice an undertone of annoyance in his voice. As if he had any right to be annoyed over the situation that he caused. "Because it wasn't meant to be."

"It sure looked to me like you found it pretty amusing a minute ago."

He shrugged one shoulder, "Then you need to learn to read people better. I wasn't amused at all."

He paused, considering his next words. "As a matter of fact, I was relieved. The truth is, C, you had me going a few times there. I was wondering if you really were going to do it?"

"And what if I had?" I snapped. "Did your stupid plan allow for that possibility? Then what?"

He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. "It never would have happened."

Of course it never would have happened. I knew that. But he didn't. "How do you know that? You said yourself, I had you going a few times."

"I said that I was wondering. But let me tell you something, C. The moment I stopped wondering and actually started to believe it, I would've taken the gun back from you, and then I would keep smacking you upside the head with it until your brain started functioning again. You need to learn to read people? Look at me right now, and you tell me if I'm serious or not."

I didn't need to look at him, I could hear it in his tone. He was serious. But I looked anyway. Yep, I was right. Dead serious.

I felt the anger slipping from me, quickly replaced with emptiness. I felt drained. The last few hours, have been like I was on a crazy emotional roller coaster, experiencing every possible emotion I believed I was capable of as if they were the peaks of the track themselves. Happiness, excitement, betrayal, anger, fear, regret, sadness, caring, confusion. I had nothing left.

But there was still something I needed to know. "So let me see if I understand? You pulled me from my friends' car, you made me ride with you out to nowhere. You then threw Jimmy and Danny out of the car, all so you can carry out this plan of yours to mess with me and see if my brain is functioning. Do I have this right?"

"No. There was no such plan. I didn't even think of it until after we got here and you pissed me off."

Huh? Pissed _him_ off? How? By trying to understand what he was going through? By having some sympathy for him? By wanting to help him?

'No one cares', he often told me. Well, of course no one will seem to care if you're going to get pissed off when they do.

"I'm sorry if I pissed you off. I didn't mean to, but what did I do?" I couldn't think of a single thing.

But a thought in the back of my mind reminded me that Jane and my father aside, it was actually Sonny who was responsible for most of the hell that I had been through today. Threatening me, falsely accusing me, slapping me, throwing me against a brick wall, pulling me away from my friends (even though I was actually grateful for that), breaking Slick's nose for no good reason, telling me after all this time that he didn't trust me, his disturbing comatose act in the car, then 'hey C, here's a gun, go shut Jimmy off like a switch. Oh that? I was just messing with you.'

And yet here I was apologizing to him, when shouldn't it be the other way around?

Yeah it should, if it was anyone else. But this was Sonny. He didn't give out apologies; he only accepted them, and even that wasn't guaranteed. If you knew him at all, then you knew this.

"You don't know? Then let me remind you." His voice once again raised pitch in a mocking tone, "Of course, Sonny. Whatever you want, Sonny. Just say it and I'll do it, Sonny."

" _That's_ what pissed you off?" I asked incredulously, "You asked me to do you a favor. Would you have been happier if I had just told you to take the favor and shove it?"

"Maybe. At least that would have been an appropriate answer. Let me tell you something, C. When somebody, and I don't care who that somebody is- it could be your friend, a total stranger, or even your own mother- when somebody asks you to do them a favor, there are only two possible ways to respond."

"I know there's yes and no."

"Wrong. There is 'no;' then there's 'maybe,' depending on what it is. You never commit yourself like that, at least not until you know all the details and thought it through. Otherwise, you may find yourself agreeing to become involved in something that you _will_ regret."

"Or I can change my mind and walk away, like I just did with you."

"No, C." He shook his head slowly. "You may get away with that a few times, but there are guys out there, who, once you say 'yes' to them - even if it's just once - there's no way to turn back. They won't take 'no' for an answer. Be very careful about the choices you make in doing favors and who you do them for. Believe me, I know about these things. So trust me on this, okay?"

Somehow I knew that he was speaking from personal experience, and I did believe him. I nodded. "Okay, I'll be careful."

He returned a short nod my way and continued. "You just do what's best for you, and don't worry about pleasing others."

He brought his index finger to his temple and tapped it, "Always question everything and everyone. Always think for yourself. Don't let anyone else do your thinking for you, and don't ever let yourself become somebody's stooge. You're smarter than that. Don't let yourself become like the jack-offs that I'm surrounded by every day." His left hand did a quick backwards sweep towards the bar.

The last comment took me by surprise. After all these years, I had no idea he felt that way. "You mean Jimmy and Danny?"

He looked back towards the bar. "Jimmy's okay, he has half a brain. Sometimes even three-quarters on a good day."

He chuckled softly to himself, then became serious once again. "But Danny? He's a moron. Like Bobby, Jojo, Coffecake, and the others. All morons. They'll never get any further or become anything more than what they are now. You're half Danny's age and you've already showed me, even tonight, that you can be smarter than him. These guys can't think for themselves, so they need me to do their thinking for them, as well as smack them back into line on the rare occasion when they do get an independent thought."

I considered this for a moment, but to me his words seemed to contradict themselves. Taking a chance that he might think he overestimated my intelligence, I decided to ask, anyway.

"I don't get it, Sonny. On one hand, you say they're morons because they need you to think for them, but on the other hand you say you smack them back into line when they do think for themselves. What are they supposed to do?"

"I would like them to think for themselves, but just be smarter when they do. Not the way they go about it. You know, C, there are times when it may seem like I'm not paying attention to what's going on. Maybe I'm involved in thought, or maybe I'm engaged in something, possibly even somewhere else, but it seems these are the times these jack-offs will try to grow a brain and slip something past me. And they're morons because they actually think they can get away with it. They don't know that I see them. It doesn't even occur to them. My eyes and ears are always open, and even more so when they seem not to be. Capisci?"

I understood alright. "Yeah, I know that Sonny."

He flashed a small smile. "And I know that you know this. That's just one of the things that makes you smarter. Another one was that you asked me why. This shows that you're questioning me. That means you're doing your own thinking. Do you think Danny would do that?"

He didn't give me time to respond before he answered his own question. "No, he wouldn't. If those two came back right now, and I told Danny to go climb to the top of the roof of the bar, then dive headfirst into the parking lot, you know what he would say to me?"

I had a pretty good idea about that, but instead of responding, I just shook my head.

"He'd say 'Yeah okay, Sonny' and off he'd go to do it."

I was taken aback, and not just because that was exactly what I expected he'd say, but also because Sonny managed to do a damn good vocal imitation of him.

But then I realized, of course he'd be able to mimic it perfectly. He hears that exact phrase from Danny at least a hundred times a day.

"That sounds just like him." I meant that in both ways.

But I still had one question on my mind, "I get what you're saying, but what I don't get is why couldn't you just tell me this? You think I wouldn't understand if you just explained this to me? Why all that bullshit with the gun and Jimmy?"

He exhaled slowly. "Why? I guess I just wanted to leave an impression on you, something you won't forget by tomorrow morning."

That's some impression, I thought to myself. Of all the things you could have done, _that's_ what you picked? But I didn't get a chance to respond as he continued.

"The problem, C, is that you don't listen to me. Words alone don't seem to work with you, so I thought I'd try something different to make my point."

"If your point was to freak me out, then you did a good job. Because I'll tell you, I was wondering myself a few times whether any of us - Jimmy, Danny or even me - were going to make it out of this car tonight."

He turned to me, arching one eyebrow. "Is that what you really think of me?" He sounded curious, but there was a serious undertone as well.

I shook my head, and without even intending to do so, I found myself doing a not so bad imitation of him. "No."

I paused a moment, wondering if I should say the rest before figuring what the hell, it's the truth. "I thought maybe you'd lost your mind."

He nodded slowly and turned away, "Fair enough."

I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, or how I should respond, so I was glad when he continued.

"The important thing is that you remember, that's all. Now that you've seen for yourself how easy it is to become involved in shit you really don't want to be involved in, and how quickly and unexpectedly it can all happen, maybe you'll be a little more cautious in the future. At least I hope so."

"I will Sonny." Then I added "And I do listen to you. Maybe you don't think so, but I do."

"No, you don't." He turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. "You _hear_ me, but you don't listen to me. There's a difference."

What was he talking about? I did listen to him. Okay, maybe before when he was explaining how to go about murdering a friend and cleaning up the mess afterwards I may have not been paying as much attention as usual, but as far as I was concerned, that was more his fault than mine. "I listen," I repeated. "You've taught me a lot."

"Yeah, you listen alright." He sounded a bit annoyed.

Sonny may not mind being questioned, but I knew he didn't care to be argued with once he had stated his position. "If you listened to me, I wouldn't've had to change my plans in order to chase you and a bunch of jerk-offs across town to remove you from that car and a bad situation."

So _that's_ what this was about. He told me a million times to stay away from my friends, but I paid no mind. Okay, so maybe on this I didn't listen, but on everything else I did. Besides, I wondered, how did he know it was a bad situation? He had no idea where we were going or why. Hell, I didn't even know myself until I was already in the car. "What do you mean?"

Before he even spoke, from his expression I knew that question sent him from a bit annoyed into full blown annoyed.

"I'm telling you right now, C, you don't talk to me like one of those moron jerk-offs that you call friends." He pointed three fingers at my chest. "I don't treat you that way, and I want the same respect in return. As soon as that window went down, I spotted at least two guns in the car. I smelled the cocktails, and I'm willing to put money down that the car was hot. So what was I to think, that youse were just heading out for a picnic in the park? The only place you were heading was jail or worse. How many times have I told you that's exactly where those jerk-offs are going to wind up, and they'd be more than happy to drag you along? But have you listened to me?"

"Okay, you're right about that, but I listen to you on everything else! I know how you feel about them, but they're still my friends." I shrugged, not knowing what more I could say.

"Your friends..." he muttered, but I still heard contempt in his voice, "I have news for you. C - they're not your friends. I'm your friend. I'd never do what they did to you tonight."

I didn't know what he was talking about, and I was starting to become defensive. They had done nothing to me tonight. He, on the other hand, had done plenty.

You really don't want me to tally that scorecard, Sonny, I thought to myself, because I don't think it will come out in your favor.

"They didn't do anything to me tonight, they just asked me to take a ride with them, that's all."

"That's all, huh?" He leaned his head forward, shook it slowly a few times before facing me again, "I don't know, C, you really need to pay more attention to what's going on around you. You tell me what you saw when I came up to the car."

I shrugged, but answered him honestly. "You were still pissed off. You told me to get out of the car. Then you almost killed Slick just for trying to talk to you." I explained in a simple, matter of fact tone.

"Almost?" he smirked. "There is no 'almost' with me, kid. If I wanted to kill him, I would have. But just the opposite, I did that jerkoff a favor."

"How? By breaking his nose?!" I asked in disbelief. Sonny sure seemed to have some strange ideas about 'favors'. It was probably a good thing that he almost never asked for them.

He shrugged in an offhand way. "I figured maybe a rap to the head might wake up his brain. Let's face it, it's been comatose for years. It certainly couldn't make him any more stupid, so it would only help. And it worked. He shut up, right?"

"Now, because of me, he knows to listen more carefully when told to do something. Which works to his favor, because maybe the next guy he chose to ignore wont be as gentle with him as I was. But anyway- what happened next?"

I thought about it for a few moments. "Nothing. You told me again to get out of the car. I got out. I went with Jimmy and we got in this car. Then you got in a minute later."

He exhaled loudly and leaned back in his seat, still looking at me.

"Okay, so let me tell you how I seen it. Yeah, I was pissed off. I had good reason to be, but I'm not going to go into that right now.

"Once I jump-started that moron's brain for him, I told you again to get out of the car. So, after seeing what happened to their idiot leader, what do your so called 'friends' do? One slams the seat forward, folding the head jerkoff along with it, then both morons in the backseat hurl you out the door without so much as a goodbye and good luck. You would have ended up kissing the pavement if I hadn't grabbed you, but do you think they gave a fuck? All they cared about was protecting their own sorry asses. For all they knew, I wanted you out of the car so I could beat the crap out of you, but they didn't care about that did they? At the first sign that they may be in trouble, they threw you to the wolves. Real friends don't do that, C."

I let his words sink in as I tried to remember. Had anyone even said 'Bye' or 'See you later' to me? No, they hadn't. But that's not what was bothering me.

Sonny was right, he was really pissed off at the time. Pissed off to the point where as much as I wanted out of that car even seconds before he showed up, I still hesitated to obey his order. They didn't know what happened between Sonny and me about a half hour before, but would it have changed the way they acted if they did?

Probably not.

After all, they saw what he did to Slick. They knew he was in a violent mood. Did any one of them even ask me if I wanted to go with Sonny, or if I'd be okay? Or did they just decide to give him what he wanted before he could take out his anger on another one of them, not even considering what could happen to me?

The hurt I had felt earlier began to slip back in. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to admit it, but Sonny made a good point there. Would real friends do that? I didn't think so.

I glanced at Sonny, thankful he no longer seemed annoyed. He returned my gaze calmly, patiently, giving me time to consider his words and work it out for myself. I was thankful for that, as well.

The question that now burned in my mind was: what was I going to do about this? I didn't feel right about cutting all ties with them. We'd all been together since we were little kids. But I also knew I'd never see them in the same way again. I wasn't sure how I should handle this.

I glanced at him again. Damn it, Sonny, why do you always have to be right about this stuff? And why is it that when you are, it often just makes me feel worse?

But deep down, I knew. The problem wasn't Sonny. He had himself together. He was smart and well read. He actually enjoyed reading. I had seen the many books on various subjects lined up neatly in the cases of his home office; the ones he was currently into stacked on the corner of his desk. But there was more to it than that. Books are good, but he also had the ability to read people, as well. I didn't. He could always see the things I missed. His eyes and ears were always open. Mine weren't. I wished I could be more like him in these ways. I know he wanted me to be. I wanted it too.

Ever since I was about seven years old, when I first began to take notice of him, my goal in life was to be just like him. I spent countless hours just studying him, watching his every move. His expressions, gestures, body language, the way he smiled and laughed, whether it was genuine or sarcastic, the way he spoke, the way the pitch, as well as tone, would change in his voice, depending on his mood at the moment, not to mention his ability to instantly switch moods from one second to the next. And I spent even more time practicing, imitating what I had observed.

No one should be able to read him better than I could, but yet I often failed at this; even a few times tonight. If I couldn't even figure him out, how would I have a chance with others?

I realized that copying his outward appearance wasn't enough. It's what was inside that gave him his abilities. In short, he had talent.

My father told me all my life that I had talent as well, all the talent in the world, as he put it. And if I used it, good things would happen for me. But he'd also warn me that if I didn't use it, nothing would happen and the saddest thing in life was wasted talent.

And that was the difference. Sonny used his talent. I didn't. Instead of listening to him, I was wasting mine, just like Slick, Mario, Ralphie and Aldo were wasting theirs. It occurred to me that maybe that's what Sonny saw in them all along, and it was the reason why he didn't want me to hang around with them. Things were becoming clearer to me.

"Did it ever happen to you?" I asked thoughtfully. "I mean, did people who you really believed were your friends throw you to the wolves?"

I expected him to say no. That he was careful and that I should be as well. That he saw it coming way beforehand and didn't give them the opportunity, and neither should I. So I was a little surprised when he answered, softly, "Yeah. Once." He sighed. "It was a very long time ago."

"So, what did you do about it?"

He shrugged one shoulder, just slightly, "It's ancient history. Let's just say I caught them by surprise when I returned, leading the pack. That was the end of it."

His tone let me know that it wasn't just the end of the story, it was the end of the subject for him. And that was okay with me. He didn't need to explain further, and I really didn't want him to. It was an unspoken understanding that we had, especially in the last year or two.

When I was younger, I was much more naive.

 _I remember I was about 13 years old or so, when one summer day I was sitting on our stoop, talking with Slick and Mario about what we should do with the rest of our afternoon. I heard the bus coming down our street and looked up to see my father waving as he drove by. I waved back and he continued on his way, when just moments later I noticed Sonny's car pull up in front of the bar. I watched him with interest as he got out, greeted the guys outside, and they all walked into the bar._

 _It was only then it suddenly dawned on me. Ever since I could remember, my father had woken up early five - sometimes even six - days a week. And no matter how he felt, no matter what the weather, he'd still get on that bus and go to work. Just so he could pay the bills, support my mother and me, and barely get by. It was the same with all my friends' fathers as well._

 _Sonny had always told me that the working man was a sucker. And looking at both him and my Dad, he appeared to be right. Sonny wasn't barely getting by. Even at thirteen, I could see this. He had nice clothes, never drove a car that was over two years old, always had a large wad of cash in his pocket._

 _One time when we were out taking a ride somewhere, he said he had to stop home for a moment._

 _It was the first time I ever saw his house. I didn't go inside that time; he left me in the car as he just ran in for a moment, but I remember how impressed I was. He had a house, a real house. Not some tiny apartment in a building that he shared with many others, but his own private house._

 _But he never had to get up early to go to work. He never had to work a set shift, or overtime, or deal with pain-in-the-ass customers or an asshole supervisor. Day after day, he just hung around the bar with his friends, either inside, or on the sidewalk out front. He just did what he wanted, when he wanted, in his own time. And it worked quite well for him._

 _I love my father, and I didn't want to think of him as a sucker, but it was hard as hell not to, especially when Sonny was living proof that there was a better way._

 _I knew then who I wanted to be like, but I needed to know how he did it._

 _I got my opportunity to ask him a couple of days later when we were having lunch at Gino's, as we usually did, once a week._

 _We'd just ordered, when I turned to him. "Sonny, can I ask you a question?"_

 _He looked at me curiously. "Yeah sure. What's on your mind?"_

 _"I was just wondering, where do you get your money from?" I asked that directly. At that age, one's talent for subtlety is not very well-developed._

 _The look on his face that flashed briefly before he smiled told me it was a question that he hadn't anticipated._

 _"Money? You shouldn't have to worry about such things at your age. Besides Gino's a good guy. You know he never charges us for lunch." Then his smile quickly faded. "Why do you ask? Is there a problem at home?"_

 _"No, no problem. It's just that you seem to be doing okay." And even as I said it, I knew the word 'okay' was quite an understatement. "Even though you don't work, so I was just wondering, that's all."_

 _"I see." He took a slow sip from his glass before turning back to me. "But who says that I don't work?"_

 _I shrugged. I knew the answer, of course. I had heard my father say it in one form or another a few times. 'Sonny thinks he's a tough guy, but if he ever had an actual job and worked for a living, he'd find out real quick he's not so tough, after all'._ _  
_ _But there was no way I'd tell Sonny he said that._

 _"No one," I replied, "But how do you work when you're at the bar all the time?"_

 _"It's easy, C." The smile was back. "Being at the bar is my job."_

 _I'm sure the expression on my face was as skeptical as I felt. Your job? You get paid for hanging out with your friends at the bar? I was supposed to believe this? I was thirteen years old, not six. If it were true, I suspected that every guy in the neighborhood would line up to apply for such employment._

 _But on the other hand, Sonny never lied to me, and I couldn't see why he would lie about this. I had to know more._

 _"I don't know, Sonny, what are you saying? You get paid to be at the bar every day? Who pays you? Tony? How does that work?"_

 _He took another long sip. "Yes, and it's complicated. When you get older"-_

 _I knew what he was going to say. That when I got older, I'd understand. I heard this from both him and my father more times than I could count. This was the one thing that they had in common, whether they knew it or not, but I was not going to let it go this time. I cut him off. "But I am older now, so why not try to explain?"_

 _He sighed. "Yeah, I guess you are. Okay, this is how it is. I've known Tony for a long time. Before he took over Chez Bippy. This was back when the hair on his head wasn't removable."_

 _He flashed me a quick grin, and the thought of that humorously horrible toupee that Tony always wore made me to return a smile of my own before he went on._

 _"He bought the bar and things were pretty good for a few years. Then it started to change. The money coming in was slowing down, the bills were going up, he was building up serious debt; he was having some problems. So, one day he came to me and asked if I could help him out. I lent him some money, enough to clear up his debts, and get some of these guys off him, you know? The deal was, that he would pay me back a certain amount each month, in six installments._

 _"Everything was okay in the beginning. Then the third month payment came late, and was short. The next payment didn't arrive when due. That's when I went to speak to him about it, and we had a long talk. He explained that he wanted to pay me back, but he was having problems collecting money from people that owed him, and to make things worse, his main suppliers were threatening to cut him off, and the inspectors were giving him a hard time about renewing his license. Because of this, not only did he not have my money, he was going back into debt again. And unless the license situation was taken care of, he'd have to shut the bar down."_

 _Sonny stopped to let the waiter to replace his near-empty glass with a fresh one, and took a quick drink from it. I was listening raptly to this story, but I took advantage of the quick break to grab a few swallows from my own glass._

 _I remember I was drinking Dr. Pepper, I used to love the stuff back then, and Gino would keep a supply on hand just for me._

 _To this day, I still don't know what Sonny drank. He never ordered it. The waiter would ask him, 'What would you like Sonny, the usual?' and he would nod his head just once, and a moment later his drink would appear. I could tell by the color it wasn't wine. I figured it had to be some type of hard liquor. Average guys drank wine and beer. Guys like Sonny drank differently; so I believed anyway._

 _I put down my glass and gazed at him, fascinated with this unknown piece of history and anxious for him to continue. I didn't have to wait long._

 _"He asked me if there was any way possible that I could give him some more time, and lend him some more money." He paused for a moment, perhaps replaying the scene in his mind._

 _"Did you?" I prompted, though by the look on his face, I knew the answer._

 _"No," he shrugged. "I didn't see the point, and I told him this. He couldn't afford to pay back what he already owed me. He owed other people as well, and I couldn't see how his getting deeper into debt was going to help either of us. We talked about this, threw a few ideas around, then came up with a better solution. That I would be like" - for a couple of seconds he seemed to search for the correct word - "like a silent partner in the bar. And instead of paying me the money back, he would just give me a percentage of the money the bar takes in every week. So, he would take care of the day-to-day business like he always did, you know: inventory, ordering, paying bills, any payroll etc. And I went around to talk with the people who owed him money, explained to them how things were, and within a week we collected all of it. I negotiated a deal with the suppliers, and took care of the licensing issues._

 _"Since then, I just keep an eye on things over there. After all, it's in my interests to do so. I make sure people pay their tabs when they're supposed to, take care of any problems that may come up. It turned out to be a good arrangement for both of us." Another sip and then a smile, "So does that answer your question?"_

 _I returned the gesture, "Yeah it does, thanks." And I couldn't resist adding, "And I understand fine, nothing complicated about it."_

 _"Good." And that's as far as he got before our food arrived, and we moved on to a different subject._

I hate to admit it, but because of that conversation, for the next couple of years I naively believed that (along with occasional lucky nights of cards or dice, and getting good tips at the track now and again) this was how he made his money. That owning a bar, even as a partner, was apparently a very lucrative business and easy money when compared to what the working suckers had to do and put up with.

For the longest time, I wanted to be a bar owner and I would spend time imagining it, thinking of where I would like the bar to be located and what I would name it.

But as I got older, especially in the last year or two, the truth about Sonny was becoming much clearer to me. He and my father were right. As time passed, I was understanding more. It's not that Sonny lied. The story he told me that day was true. But what I'd come to realize was that this was very typical for him. He would pick and choose which details he wished to reveal, and which he kept hidden.

I now knew that the story was much more complicated than I realized at the time, and that he simplified it for my benefit. There were so many details that he slipped past me, which back then, I hadn't noticed. Such as: where did he get that kind of money to lend to Tony to get out of debt? And how was it that Tony tried unsuccessfully for months to collect money from those who owed him, but Sonny paid them a just a single visit and had it all within a week? Not to mention how he appeared to effortlessly resolve the supplier and legal issues when Tony failed at these as well.

And this 'good arrangement' that they had, which seemed reasonable at the time, now appeared to be a bit suspect to me. Sonny wasn't getting a percentage of the profits; he was getting a cut of the take right off the top. He never disclosed to me how much the original loan was for, though surely it had to have been paid back, with interest, by now. Yet he still received his money every week.

Knowing Sonny as I did, it wouldn't have surprised me at all if this was his plan from the beginning. It was most likely that he intentionally put a fairly short-term and very high interest rate on the loan, purposely setting Tony up to be unable to make the payments, just so he could make this deal with him.

It also wouldn't have been much of a shock to me if he was 'intimately' aware of the supplier and licensing issues before Tony even mentioned them to him.

This was a win-win situation for Sonny either way. If Tony paid him back in full as promised, then great; he made some good money off the interest. If Tony failed to do so, then Sonny would make sure that he paid anyway - for the rest of his life or until he signed his rights to the bar over to Sonny. In the meantime, it served him well as a 'legitimate' source of income, if the need to show one should ever arise.

And from the snippets of conversations I overheard, the whispers behind closed doors and such over the years, it seems that Tony wasn't alone. There were many other business owners in the neighborhood handing money over to Sonny - either directly or indirectly - on a regular basis, for one reason or another.

Back then, it was just these types of details that I would have wanted to know about, but never would have understood. But now the difference was that I understood them, but really didn't want to know.

And it wasn't only my understanding that improved over the years. It was my talent for subtlety, as well.

The time had long passed since I could get away with asking him about such things. I'm sure he knew that by now I'd figured it out, but he refused to talk about it. This crap he just pulled on me a few minutes ago was the closest he'd ever come to revealing to me how things worked in his world. In our friendship, this subject was taboo. We didn't ignore it, but we both danced around it. It was something we both acknowledged, but never spoke of.

So, when he told me that he 'caught them by surprise' I automatically understood the implication, but didn't need or even want to know anything more. It was, as usual, a quick dance, and that was the end of it.

He exhaled slowly. "C, no matter what you think, I'm only trying to help you." His voice softened even more. "A long time ago, you helped me. You didn't have to, you owed me nothing, but you did anyway. And I appreciate it, both then and now. I tell you these things, I show you these things, because I want you to learn that you need to keep your eyes open, that you need to take notice of what's really going on around you. I want you to be more careful than I was at your age. I want you to make better decisions than I did, to make better choices in all that you do, because even the small ones can shape your life forever. I'm just trying to save you from having to learn some of these things the hard way. The way I had to."

I knew this. On some level, I'd always known this, though occasionally I'd forget. It was still nice to hear, though, and my response came not from my head, but straight from my heart.

"I know, Sonny, and I appreciate everything you've done for me in all this time. You taught me so much. Okay, I helped you out years ago, but the way I see it, you've more than repaid me. At least ten times over. And I can't thank you enough. I think it's me who owes you, now." And I meant every word of it.

He just stared straight forward and slowly shook his head, "Not at all, kid."

We sat in silence for a minute or two, before I shifted back to my mind to ask, "So, is that why you made me take a ride with you tonight? Why we're here? So you could tell me all of this?"

"No." He settled back in his seat, "The truth is, I really did want to ask a favor from you."

Well, at least I knew my options, now. I could say no, but that was one word I had always had difficulty with when it came to him. Or I could just say 'Maybe, it depends on what it is'.

But instead, I chose a third option. "Another favor, huh?" I asked, before trying my best Danny imitation. "Yeah, okay Sonny. Whatever you say. You want me to get some gasoline and torch the bar with everyone in it?"

He looked down, and his hand covered his eyes while he slowly shook his head. "No."

He removed his hand and turned to me, flashing me a sly smile, "At least not before we get to watch Danny dive off the roof."

At that point, we both looked towards the bar and shared a short laugh. It felt good.


	5. Control and Listen

After another minute or so, Sonny turned his attention back to me. "So, what do you think C?"

I had my response already planned out before he asked. "You know I'd really like to help you out, but it's going to depend on what it is."

He seemed satisfied, and folded his arms as he leaned back into the seat. He hooked one of his ankles over the other and tried to stretch his legs out, but as spacious as the Caddy was, they were too long to fully extend.

He let out a barely audible sigh. I wasn't sure if it was because of this, or what he was about to ask of me. I had no idea what this favor might be, but there was obviously something to it. He was hesitating, and I was sure it was the reason he sent Jimmy and Danny from the car.

"I'm going to be straight with you, C, I screwed up." He slowly shook his head in disbelief.

I was just confused. Sonny never screwed anything up. He was never wrong about anything. Except once. Earlier today. And we hadn't really discussed that.

"Look, Sonny, if this is about what happened on the sidewalk tonight, let's just forget about it. I've been doing some thinking, and I was kind of angry before because, well, you hurt me. I mean, not really physically" - although he had hurt me physically, the emotional pain was far worse – "but, you know.. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I understand why you thought what you did, and I realize that if our places were switched, I probably would have thought the same thing."

He considered this for a moment, before speaking softly. "I appreciate your understanding. Honestly, if our places had been switched, I'm not sure if I could."

He shrugged, before he continued. "I know I lost my temper back there, and to me that's unacceptable. It's a sign of weakness" -

I didn't mean to, but I interrupted him as I stifled a quick snort of laughter. He looked me dead in the eye. His face was stern. He didn't find it humorous at all.

"I'm sorry Sonny, it's just that – well, believe me, when you get angry, _nobody_ sees you as weak. It's actually a pretty scary experience for the rest of us."

I threw that last line in as a compliment. After all, he had told me once that he preferred to be feared over loved. And after having his wrath directed towards me for the very first time tonight, it was the truth, as well.

"Maybe for some, but those aren't the ones I'm concerned about. It's important to know your strengths, and to build upon them, but it's so much more important to know your weaknesses. Because those are what your enemies will be looking for; studying them to see how they can be used to their advantage.

"Losing one's temper is a very big weakness, because during that time, you have temporarily lost control" - he tapped his index finger to his temple, "up here. And even if it's only for a minute or two, it only takes seconds for _anything_ to happen. It's just a fact, that you can never hope to control the situation or people around you, if you don't even have yourself. Capisci?"

I nodded, "So, it's an issue of control then?"

"Of course it is! Control is always the issue, because if you don't have it, you can bet that someone else does. And that will almost never work out in your favor."

He stared down at his hands thoughtfully, his right index finger and thumb slowly spinning the ring he always wore on his left pinky as if he were trying to unscrew it, as he continued.

"Most people don't realize that, but the few who do? Those are the ones that you got to look out for. They watch very carefully. They'll try to identify your weakness, then manipulate it, so they can use it for their own gain. You keep this in mind, okay?"

Once again, I nodded solemnly, "I will."

His explanation made sense, but I'd come to find out over time that almost everything he said did. That is, once I started to really listen to what he was saying. And even after all this time, I'm still as fascinated now as I was then by the way Sonny's mind processed things. I'd never have seen his loss of temper as a weakness before, and I wondered what else he perceived as a shortcoming within himself. I certainly couldn't think of another. "Is that your only weak area?"

He stopped playing with his ring, but continued gazing at it, his eyes narrowed, like he was wondering how it wound up there on his finger. But that was ridiculous. He's worn that same ring, on that same finger, for over ten years now. He was right. I really needed to learn to read people better.

Finally, he spoke. "It's the most obvious one. But you don't concern yourself with that, it's my issue to deal with. Every man should take inventory of himself. The earlier, the better. He should find his own strengths and weaknesses, and start working on them as soon as possible."

I knew he was talking about me. I'd never thought of this before, taking inventory of myself. So, what were my strengths? My weaknesses?

Even after thinking it over for a minute or two, I still had no idea. Well, I knew I was very fast on my feet, I could outrun any of my friends with ease, even most of our school. I suppose this could be a strength, but I was sure this wasn't what he meant.

As to my weaknesses? I didn't have to think too hard; Sonny already pointed some out to me. I don't listen. I don't pay attention to what's going on around me.

Were there any others? I couldn't come up with any. I know I didn't have a temper like Sonny's, I was positive of this. Yeah sure, I'd get angry occasionally, but who doesn't? But it was never to the extent that he did. I really had to be pushed hard to lose it.

My anger, for the most part, seemed to hibernate deep within me, only being dragged out when my level of frustration had reached its limit. Sonny's anger always seemed to be lurking just below the surface. Even when he was smiling and laughing it was still there, ready to explode at the smallest provocation, whether real or perceived.

I couldn't think of anything else to add to my inventory, but maybe - no, most likely - he could, "What would you say are my strengths and weaknesses?"

He glanced at me, and with a quick shrug and shake of his head, said "I couldn't tell you that, C. Only you know for sure what's truly in your heart. Besides, you're not expected to produce a list in just five minutes. If you did, then I can guarantee you it would be wrong. That's why I said the earlier you start, the better. It'll take years before your inventory is complete, with everything itemized and catalogued. You just work on it when you can each day, and eventually it'll all become clear."

His answer only left me with more questions, "How do I work on it each day?"

I was glad to see that his demeanor remained calm, patient. "I know I told you it's important to pay attention to what's going on around you, and it is. But it's equally important, if not more so, to know what's going on within you. To become more self-aware. To analyze not only why you reacted a certain way, what you felt, said and did, but also to think about how those around may perceive you.

"If it helps, sometimes you can reenact a conversation or encounter that you had in front of a mirror. Ask yourself, what does your body language say to others? Try to view yourself as another would, and ask yourself honestly - what do you think of this guy? Is there anything he can do to make a more desirable impression? Because you'll always have difficulty truly understanding others, until you know yourself."

In front of a mirror? Really? If he only knew how much time over the last decade that I'd actually spent in front of the mirror, reenacting daily events. He'd probably be surprised. But even more so, if he knew the encounters I'd played out were his, and not my own.

What was interesting to me, though, was the thought that all the while I was doing this, Sonny may have been doing the same. "Is that what you do? Use a mirror?"

"No." A quick shrug. "I don't need to."

Of course he didn't. Whatever he was doing was working fine for him. No reason to question or think about it.

He let out a soft sigh and continued. "But I'll tell you something that I've never told anyone before. Every night, I come home, I lie down in bed with the lights off, and I replay everything I said and did during that day. I question myself, my decisions and choices. I try to understand what type of impression or effect these things had on other people, and if there was anything that I could or should have done differently." He shrugged again, "By now, it's just a habit, and it helps me to fall asleep."

He paused for a quick moment, and I saw the corner of his mouth twitch before he added under his breath "Sometimes."

And once again, what he said had made perfect sense to me. Maybe I'd start doing that tonight. But, if I were to replay everything I'd been through today, taking time to analyze it all, I could forget about falling asleep. It would easily take me all night.

It was then that I realized how tired I felt. I was sure it was just because of the emotional drain, but I still wondered how late it was. The Caddy had a dash clock, but it was too dark to make out the position of the hands. Sonny always wore a watch, but on his left wrist. I tried to estimate how much time had passed since I first went to pick up Sonny's car at 5:30pm, but with all that happened since then, I couldn't say for sure if my estimates were accurate.

I glanced past the driver's seat towards the bar, and wondered how long Jimmy and Danny had been gone?

Sonny looked at me for a moment, and turned his attention to the bar as well.

"Those guys?" he asked as if he knew that I was thinking of them. "I can tell you exactly what they're doing right now. They've just ordered their third drink and they're debating each other on the precise meaning of 'Take your time while doing it'. What does that mean, exactly? One hour? Two hours? Three days? They don't want to come back one minute too early or too late. I could easily settle it by being more specific, but it's more fun to let them hash it out on their own, and maybe give their lazy brains a little exercise." He chuckled softly.

"I'll bet you're right." I couldn't help but shake my head in awe of his talents, "You're good Sonny, you have a gift for sure."

"Nah, it's not a gift. It's just a matter of reading people, understanding how they think, but it's not a gift. It's rather easy, once you know the secret." He shifted position and turned to me. "And that secret, as I've told you a million times before, is that you need to listen. I mean, really listen. Think about what each person is saying to you, and - in many cases - not saying.

"You know, listening isn't just about one person telling another to do or don't do something, and the other person obeys. It's also about just sitting there silently, absorbing all that's being said - whether it's just a story, a joke or whatever. Thinking what may be going through their mind. What is their motivation for expressing these things? How are they expecting me to react?

"Not many people do this, though. They hear, but they don't listen, because their brain's too preoccupied with trying to come up with their own story or whatever that they can tell in return. They're either just not smart enough, or they don't care about learning new things. And most of the time it's both. Either way, it's a waste of opportunity that can work to your advantage."

"How's that?"

"You may be surprised" - he showed me a sly smile - "to find out how many people who don't know you will mistake your silence, especially in a social situation, for shyness or a lack of confidence in yourself. I mean, do you think I'm shy or uncertain of myself?"

"You?" Now it was my turn to chuckle. The notion was very much laughable. I shook my head emphatically. "No, absolutely not. No way."

"Because you know me. But for those who don't? Well, I guess for some it's as hard to tell apart as kindness and weakness. Those are another two that can get you into trouble if you guess wrong, but the ones who confuse these things usually aren't too smart, anyway.

"So, what often happens is those guys who don't know me, they'll approach me and try to get me talking to them. It's amusing at first, listening to them jumping around, trying different tactics to see how I respond. Depending on my mood, I like to mess with them by feeding them unexpected and mixed signals, just to watch them suddenly stop and shift direction once again." He smiled as he shook his head.

I tried to make some sense of what he was saying, speaking my thoughts slowly out loud while I did. "So, it's like... they think that they're feeling you out, but you're already on to them, and they don't realize it?"

"Close enough. It's a game, C. It's played by gaining the other guy's friendship and confidence. That's what they're trying to do with me. And it's not because of my charming personality, or that they think I'd be a lot of fun to hang out with on weekends, but only because they want something from me. It could be anything, but it's usually just information. They'll go on and on talking all kinds of bullshit, and I just listen. It gives me a good chance to see who they really are and start getting some ideas about what it is specifically that they're after. Then I carefully steer them onto the path I want them to follow, and if I ask the right questions in the right way, they'll usually wind up giving me useful information which they never intended to. You see, in the end, my goal really isn't any different from theirs. I just use a different playbook that's all."

I thought about this. He viewed these new encounters as a game, a sort of psychological warfare? He wasn't talking about a formal interrogation, but a social event. What about just connecting with people? Why not take the opportunity to relax and have a good time?

But I guess that's difficult to do when you trust no one. When you truly believe that everyone is operating with a hidden motive, and they all want something from you. But what about me? He didn't trust me. Was I just another round of the game to him?

No, it couldn't be. I had nothing to offer him and I wanted nothing from him either. Except his friendship, but that was all. But even as that thought occurred to me, I knew, deep down, it wasn't true.

Didn't I enjoy the special attention that I received from everyone in the neighborhood from the moment it became known that Sonny and I were friends? Even when I wasn't with him, people who always ignored me before suddenly took notice. They'd smile and greet me. They'd ask how I was doing, then ask me how Sonny was doing as well. The local business owners would hand me a bag of their wares, or offer me their services, for _free_. They refused any offer of payment with a big smile, instructing me to 'Just tell Sonny that I took care of you.'

Yes, of course I liked this. As a matter of fact, I liked it a lot. But to me it was a just a perk. It wasn't the reason that I wanted to be his friend.

I guess, in the beginning, I was hoping to gain something else. My goal since I was a young boy was to be just like him. I wanted to be close to him, because who could teach me the things I needed to achieve my objective better than the man himself? I could learn more as his friend, than I could watching from the outside. But this made me no better than the other guys that he spoke of, did it?

No. I wasn't like them. Maybe I wanted information from him, but for a different reason, and I actually wanted to be his friend. Unlike them, I really did care about him, and yeah, he was fun to hang out with on weekends.

"On the other hand" - he broke into my thoughts - "those who do know me; well, I already explained that to you. They just figure I'm not paying attention, that my mind's elsewhere. So, they'll try to get away with what they can, but it never works out well for them. You'd think that they'd learn by now that my eyes and ears are always open."

At that moment, it clicked in my mind. "And even more so when they appear not to be, because that's when you're really focused on listening."

His grin widened a little as he nodded, "You're a smart kid C. You do the right thing, and you're going to go places in life."

I smiled as well, both inside and out. Not just because he was obviously pleased, but also because I was sure I detected a note of pride in his voice. And the truth was, I was sort of proud of myself. I'd been able to figure out something about him that many didn't know.

But his smile quickly faded, and he became serious once again. "But that brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about, as well as the favor I'd like to ask. You see, there's something that has me concerned, and I think it's time we discussed it."

Taking the cue from his sudden shift of demeanor, I nodded solemnly, "Okay, what's the matter?"

He turned his head away, looking out his window. He didn't answer right away.

After a minute or so, I started to feel uneasy. What the hell was wrong with him? He seemed to be slipping back into his unresponsive mode. The unappealing stranger that I arrived here with was returning. Was this because of what he wanted to talk to me about, what he wanted to ask of me? He was fine, until this subject came up.

I felt a knot form in my stomach. Whatever it is, it can't possibly be worse than 'plugging' Jimmy, and I know now he'd never involve me in 'shit like that'. So why did I have this feeling of dread?

I tried to use a gentle tone, but it came out sounding meek. Maybe even nervous.

"Sonny?"

That's all I said, but the question was clearly implied.

He didn't look my way, but I heard him exhale softly. "Just give me a minute, C." His tone was low, pensive.

Well, at least he's answering, I thought. That's a good sign, or at least I hoped it was.

"It's okay, no problem. Take your time, we've got plenty of it," I assured him.

And it was true. Even if Jimmy and Danny were to reappear now, if Sonny wasn't ready, he'd just send them right back into the bar. Jimmy would roll his eyes, but he'd do as he was told, and Danny would give his standard reply of 'Yeah, okay Sonny' while heading back towards the door.

I'd heard, most of my life, that the Irish loved to drink, and if Danny was a typical Irishman, then I would have to say it was true. He could drink anyone under the table at Chez Bippy, and he often did. Even Jojo, who was taller and weighed about the same as four Dannys put together, couldn't keep up with him. But the weird part was that he never seemed to get drunk, no matter how much he had.

"It's that Irish blood," Mario had explained to me one day while we were all hanging out in front of the Deuces Wild club. "Them Irish, they metabolize booze differently from the rest of us. They drink so much, the alcohol's always there in their blood. It becomes, like, part of their anatomy, and their bodies accept it as normal. That's why they never seem to get drunk, or not as quickly as regular people."

That was Mario. He had an explanation for everything. Of course, none of it ever made sense to anyone but him. The crazy nonsense he would come out with…

When Sonny finally spoke, I almost didn't catch it. His voice was barely audible. "I wish I was sure..."


	6. A father to me

That's just great. Whatever burden he had on his mind and found it so difficult to even bring up to me - he wasn't even certain of it. I just hoped I wasn't about to be falsely accused of something again. Once a day was enough. Who was I kidding? Once in a lifetime was enough. I prepared myself for the worst.

Finally, he took a slow, deep breath and turned to face me. "What bothers me is that you put too much faith in people. You're too trusting. It's not a good thing."

That was it? With everything going on, this was what he had on his mind and obviously bothered him so much? That I didn't share his bordering-on-paranoid notions that everyone had a secret agenda and wanted to trick or use me for something, therefore no one could be trusted?

I didn't want to revisit this subject. It was obvious to me that we had vastly different views on it, and neither of us were going to change our mind, but I found myself responding defensively, anyway. "So, I should be more like you and trust no one?"

His flicked his hand up, and his gaze and tone sharpened. "No. I never said that." His hand fell back down, "You just need to be more careful about who you give your trust to, that's all."

Who I give my trust to? Who was he talking about? I thought of the people in my life. He probably meant Mario, Slick, Aldo, and Ralphie. Well, if someone asked me this morning if I trusted them, if I thought they'd have my back, no matter what, I'd have said yes without a second thought. But my views had changed a bit since then.

And Jane? I'd like to think that I could trust her. I liked her a lot, but still I wasn't sure. I hadn't really known her that long, and now there was that whole thing that happened in front of the school earlier today.

So, who exactly did I put my faith in? My parents? Of course I did. They'd never do anything to betray me. They were on my side. My father and I had our arguments - sometimes they got pretty heated - but even so I always knew deep down that he only wanted what he believed was best for me. That's why he opposed me so passionately when he thought I was screwing up. Yeah, I'd get mad at him sometimes for this, but never once did I lose faith in the man.

Then, of course, there was the last main figure in my life. The one who was currently sitting right next to me. Today, for the first time ever, he took my trust and smacked it around, along with the rest of me. It was shaken up a bit, but despite this, I figured it was like the fights I had with my father. I believed Sonny was on my side as well. "More careful? I don't trust too many people at all."

"Do you trust me?"

I groaned inside. I should have seen that question coming. A good-sized part of me wanted to tell him no. In fact, it would have loved to have told him that. Just a short, sharp 'No', without any explanation or excuse to follow. It would be interesting to see his reaction. But as much as I would have liked to have done this, there was one thing holding me back. It wasn't the truth.

He gazed at me, waiting for my answer. The left corner of his lips pulled up slightly. "You're hesitating. I would have thought that you'd answer immediately."

"No, I wasn't hesitating, I was just thinking-"

He cut me off before I could finish. It was just as well, I had no idea what I would say to him if he'd asked me what I was thinking about.

This time, both corners of his mouth pulled up, forming a small, closed lip smile. "It's okay, C. You should be thinking twice, or even three or four times about it. I know I would."

Wow. He really had issues with this subject, "Wait, so when you say that you don't trust anyone, you're also including yourself?" I asked incredulously.

He shook his head. "I'm just saying that if I met someone like me, I wouldn't trust him."

Oh, well, there was a real shocking revelation. I had little doubt that if Sonny met the Pope, he would regard him with suspicion, as well. But still, ask the right questions, in the right way, and maybe some useful information could be obtained. Isn't that what he said about how the game worked? "Why not?"

He shrugged and turned his gaze back out the window towards the bar. A few moments passed before I barely heard a sigh. "Because deceit is his profession, C. Most of his life is based on and built with lies. And those lies have become so numerous and prevalent, any shred of truth that may have existed is long buried. The lies have become the truth, or at least he's no longer able to tell them apart anymore. It's hard to trust someone who's like that."

As I looked at him, all I wondered was what the heck was he talking about? Though he spoke in third person, it was obvious to me that he was really describing himself. As he saw it, anyway.

Deceit was his profession? Okay, maybe I could understand that. But that his life was built on lies? He could no longer tell what part of it was true? Did he really believe this?

When he turned back to me, I must have looked as confused as I felt, because he just simply said "I don't expect you to understand, C."

Good. Because I didn't. I wasn't sure what to say to him, I just knew intuitively that asking him to explain would be wrong. Whatever he meant by it, I had a feeling that it was all tied to the first line. His profession. And that was a road I was more than happy to avoid. "Maybe when I'm older..." I mumbled.

He heard me. "No. Not even then. If you do, that means I failed. That's unacceptable to me."

"Failed at what?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

He made it clear that as far as he was concerned, the subject was done.

"Look, what I wanted to ask you is, I'd like you to make me a promise, that's all. You're a man of your word, right?"

"Yes, of course." It still wasn't lost on me that a promise was a commitment, and there was no way that I was going to ever commit to something again without first knowing all the details. "But it depends on what it is."

He nodded slowly, his facial expression remained serious. "I want you to promise me that you'll stay away from the bar from now on."

I was dumbfounded. This was completely unexpected. Stay away from the bar? What was he saying? That he no longer wanted to be friends with me? Well, that would certainly make my father happy. But me? Not so much. I shook my head in sad disbelief.

He watched me, patiently awaiting my response. "What? Is that a problem?"

"No, it's just that you sound like my father."

He exhaled and nodded slowly, giving this serious consideration. "Well, that's okay. Your father's a good man, a smart man. I respect him. He's somebody that you should be listening to."

I considered his words. If only you knew the truth, Sonny. That is, what my father really thinks about you.

For many years now, I kept my knowledge of this to myself without fully understanding why I did. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Though now it occurred to me that the reason may have been that I was being protective, but the question I still couldn't answer was which one of them was I protecting? Maybe it was time that Sonny find out.

I tried to make my voice gentle. "You may feel that way Sonny, but I'm not so sure that it's mutual."

He didn't even pause to give it a thought. "I'm sure it isn't, but that's okay as well. I can respect that. I never had any kids of my own, but if I did, I wouldn't want them anywhere near the likes of me either." He shrugged, just stating a simple fact.

I'm not sure which surprised me more - his words or the realization that after all the years I've observed and known him, I was beginning to catch a tiny glimpse here and there of a man I'd never met before.

The Sonny that I, as well as everyone else was familiar with, the one we spent time with every day, was confident, often cocky, and sometimes even arrogant. He was always certain of himself, he knew where he was going and what he wanted, and had no reservations about letting others know this as well.

But the man I saw for just a couple of fleeting moments tonight appeared very different. At best, he may have had respect for others, but seemed to have very little for himself. At worst, it was an actual dislike. He said that his life was based and built on lies. Could it be possible that the man we knew, the one that I called my friend, was one of those lies?

I wanted very much to know why he didn't want me at the bar anymore, but I found that I was even more interested in learning more about this other side of him. "Why not?"

His eyes locked onto mine, but he said nothing. After about fifteen seconds or so had passed, I realized he wasn't going to offer this information, and I looked away. One thing about Sonny that was no lie: he could stare down the devil himself with ease.

I tried to relieve the tension. "I mean, from my own experience, I think you'd make a great father." I had no problem making it sound sincere. It was the truth, after all.

His lips twitched into an almost-smile. "Thanks, C, that means a lot to me. It really does."

It was my turn to shrug and state a simple fact. "It's the truth. You've been like a father to me." And as soon as I said it, I realized that before today I'd never once told him anything like this. And now I had, for the second time tonight.

The first time was when he grabbed me on the sidewalk, right in front of our social club. I didn't see the black Cadillac pull up to the curb behind me. I was looking at my friends, who were piled up inside an unfamiliar car that slowed to a stop in the middle of the road in front of me. Slick had rolled down the passenger window and was starting to tell me about some people egging our club, when his eyes went wide and he interrupted himself, shouting to Aldo in the driver's seat that Sonny and Jimmy were coming and to get out of there fast. Immediately Aldo threw the car into reverse and they sped down the block away from me and whipped around the corner.

I turned just in time to see Sonny jump out of the rear of Jimmy's car and head straight towards me at a very fast pace. Jimmy and Danny were right behind him, hustling to keep up. I might have been amused with this, but as soon as I saw Sonny's expression, I froze right there and then. He was absolutely furious. I managed to get out "What's going on, Sonny?" and then he was on top of me.

It all happened so quickly. He grabbed me with one hand and I never saw his other hand at all, but I sure felt it as it slammed me across the face hard enough to make my ears ring, and I stumbled from the impact.

But before I could even right myself, both his large hands clawed into my jacket, deep enough to take my shirt and some skin along with it, and he hurled me into the brick wall of the building. As soon as I made contact with the wall, a burst of white-hot pain exploded in my shoulder and I felt all the air in my lungs escape.

I was still stunned when his hands moved to my lapels. Seizing them tightly, he lifted me up and slammed my back into the wall again - this time, holding me into position.

"After you picked up my car, where did you go?" he growled.

It was clear he was demanding an immediate answer, but all I could do was try to catch my breath. This all happened in a matter of seconds.

My mind was racing in a confused, directionless manner. As I looked into his eyes, I was terrified. Over the years, I couldn't help but hear the countless rumors and stories circulating around the neighborhood about Sonny. He wasn't somebody that you wanted to make angry.

The tales of what happened to those people who crossed him, one way or another, flew through my mind. The long hospital stays. The broken bones. Faces beaten beyond recognition.

And about those who really pissed him off - there were no such talk. Those people seemed to just simply disappear. No one ever heard from them again, not even their families. It could have been that they saw the writing on the wall and quickly left town before they became part of the first group, but I was also aware of a darker fate that was also a possibility. But that wasn't the Sonny I knew, so I never put much thought into it.

That was until my back was literally to the wall.

I tried to stammer out my answer. I tried to tell him that I just went to the school to meet Jane and that was it, but I was having trouble even understanding myself. The result was another hard slap to the face. Now my head, as well as my ears, were ringing, but not loud enough to muffle out his accusations that I tried to kill him and that I was a fucking liar.

He quickly snapped me forward and slammed me back into the wall again. My mind was locked on one thought and only that thought - that he was going to hurt me bad. That was, if I managed to live through it.

But the irony here was that up until that moment I always thought that Sonny would protect me from any threat. I believed with all my heart that my parents would try to keep me from harm as well, but I also knew that Sonny was much more capable. To me, the safest place I could be was at his side. And now he was going to show me what an error in judgement that was.

As he yelled angrily in my face, my mind had raced back to just a few weeks before - something that Sonny told me while we were waiting to order lunch at Gino's. He was talking about a book by Niccolo Machiavelli that he read while he was doing time. It was then that he had explained to me about the concept of 'availability'. What had really stuck in my mind was his words about love and fear.

 _'The people in this neighborhood who see me here every day that are on my side? They feel safe because they know that I'm close. That gives them more reason to love me._

 _But the people who want to do otherwise? They think twice, because they know that I'm close, and that gives them more reason to fear me.'_

Somehow, I mustered the courage to look into his eyes, and I sensed that he was just moments away from losing any control that he may have had left.

I looked to Jimmy and Danny, who both flanked Sonny on either side. Jimmy stared directly at me. Or maybe I should say _through_ me. His face was blank, without emotion, like he couldn't see me at all and was just casually looking at a brick wall.

Danny, on the other hand, had his eyes cast down. He looked regretful, but at the same time he was resigned to accept whatever happened. There would be no help from these two. They were as afraid of Sonny as I was at that moment, and as soon as I realized this, I lost it.

I burst into tears. I no longer saw Sonny's eyes, or expression. My hands reached up blindly and clutched his, which were still holding me up and against the wall. I didn't try to pull his hands away. Even in the hysterical state I was in, I knew better than that. I just held them. How could he think for even a moment that I would do such a thing to him? Why couldn't he see that I was in the first group? I always felt safe when he was close. I loved him. I was on his side. Why didn't he know this?

"I didn't do anything," I heaved out between sobs. "Please Sonny, please," I shamelessly begged. My head dropped forward, almost meeting his chest, and I guess I really was an emotional wreck at that point because I remember having a strange urge to just hug and hold onto him.

I knew, even then, on some level that this wasn't a normal reaction to have towards a very pissed-off guy who was about to deal you a painful beating or worse, but at that moment I was no longer a seventeen-year-old almost-man being falsely accused of something that I would never do. Instead, I was just a little kid again, crying over something that hurt me, something that I believed to be unfair, and my father would pick me up and hold me tight to him.

He would then rock me back and forth, while assuring me in a soft voice that everything would be okay, and I knew that it would be, because of him. I loved my father for this, and I realized though Sonny had never done such a thing with me, he still had his own way of assuring me that everything would be okay, too. And I loved him for this as well.

I clenched his hands tighter, and blurted out what was in my heart, "Why would I want to hurt you? You've been like a father to me!"

Sonny suddenly became quiet. He'd been holding me up so my toes were barely touching the sidewalk, but suddenly I felt myself being carefully lowered back down. Once fully on my feet, his hands slowly released their grip on my clothing.

I let go of him as well, and quickly brushed the tears from my eyes and face.

His hands dropped limply to his sides as I dared to look up at him again. He had completely transformed. The anger was gone. The expression on his face was one that was unfamiliar to me. I'd never seen him look like that before. I thought it could possibly be regret.

But now, sitting in the back of Jimmy's car with him as I repeated those words, I noticed the identical expression on his face once again. I wondered if he'd been replaying the same exact scene in his mind, as well?

"So, what are you saying? You don't want us to hang out together anymore?" I tried not to let my voice reveal the hurt I felt.

"It's probably not a good idea until I get this situation straightened out. But afterwards? Yeah, sure. If I'm at the bar, stop in and say hi. As always, I'd like to see you, talk to you. I'm just asking you to stay away if I'm not there. Okay?"

"Only if you're not there?" I confirmed.

"Right."

It wasn't an unreasonable or impossible request. It was only on rare occasions that I found myself at the bar without Sonny, anyway. He was my main reason for going there. It sure wasn't to listen to Tony's off-key singing, or to look at Coffecake or to hear Eddie Mush endlessly complaining about how if it weren't for his bad luck he'd have none at all. Without Sonny, the bar had little-to-no appeal to me.

This wouldn't be a hard promise to keep, and I opened my mouth to agree when suddenly I just knew it was wrong. There was something that needed to be addressed first. "Why?"

And from the tight-lipped smile that appeared briefly before he became serious again, I knew I was right.

"You're getting older C, the guys are starting to notice you, and that's not good."

What the heck did that mean?

I tried to do one of his sarcastic smiles, the one that almost looked like a sneer if you didn't know him, and leaned back into my seat. "I'd say that's not good. I'd like it much better if it were the girls who were noticing me."

I noticed there was no smile returned.

"Yeah, well, that's a completely different subject for another time. This is much more important. I need your full attention here. I don't want these guys talking you into doing something you shouldn't be doing, something you will definitely regret-"

"They haven't tried to talk me into anything."

"That's because they know I'm close. You remember? It's about availability."

"Yeah, I remember. The key is fear. And fear lasts longer than love, which is why it's the better choice."

The memory of what happened on the sidewalk between us earlier flashed through my mind again. I knew I would never want to do anything that would cause me to become a target of his anger again. Fear was indeed a very powerful motivator.

He tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes. After a brief pause, he turned his gaze back to me. "Yes, that's true. But it's my truth. Not yours. And _that's_ what bothers me more than anything."

"What's that?" I wished he would stop being so cryptic and just cut to the chase.

He exhaled slowly, loudly and shook his head. "Look at me, C."

I just shrugged. Yeah, so? I quickly scanned him down and back up again to show that I was already looking at him.

"I mean, really look at me." His eyes locked with my own.

And in his eyes, I saw... nothing. Same as always. With some people, you can tell what they're thinking if you looked deep into them. But Sonny wasn't some people.

I learned long ago that there was plenty of activity going on back there, but he kept it well-hidden. Whether this ability was something he learned over the years, or whether he was just born with it, I couldn't say. All I did know was that I saw nothing unusual.

I guess he gave up on the idea that I'd figure out whatever it was that he wanted me to notice, because he continued. "Do you believe that I am somebody who has himself together? Somebody that you should look up to as a role model?"

Yes. Absolutely. I always have, since I was around seven years old. But much like a few minutes ago, when I was about to make him a promise, I realized this answer would be wrong. So I chose to say nothing, and just listened.

Turning from me, he gazed out his window once again and his tone suddenly became harsh. "Well, I'm not. Believe me, I'm the last fucking guy you'd want to become like. If you forget everything I've ever said to you over the years, you just keep that one thing in mind. Got it?"

What I got was that he was really down on himself tonight. How could he not know how many lives he touched every day, either through love or fear? And that regardless of which side of that line people fell on, most of them would give almost anything to trade places with him? It was sad, in a way,

"What's so horrible? You've got it all. Everybody and everything is yours, or yours for the taking. You do have yourself together, I only wish I did, as well. I thought that's what you wanted for me? Isn't that what you've been saying all along?"

When he turned back to me, his voice was low and much softer. "Yes, that's what I want. It's too late for me, but not for you."

He didn't get it. Did I need to yell in his face and slap him to make him see the obvious? That would never happen of course, but at that point I was getting frustrated. With him. With this whole strange conversation. With this fucking car. I wished I could at least roll down a window for fresh air, but they were power and Danny had the keys with him.

"It's never too late," I contradicted him. "Look, I don't understand why you're unhappy with your life, or with what, but I do know that as long as you're alive it's never too late to fix it."

He bit down on his lower lip, another unfamiliar gesture. He shook his head slowly and his mouth returned to normal. His voice remained low. "You're so fucking innocent, kid. Seriously, I don't know if I should laugh or cry here."

My cheeks flushed, and I was glad he wasn't looking at me to notice this. "I'm not that fucking innocent," I mumbled, unsure whether I was trying to convince him or myself.

"Hey, don't take that as an insult, because it's not. It's been so long since I was, I don't even remember it." He paused for a moment, as if trying, "Maybe I never was. If not, then it's a shame, but I can't say for sure. But what I do know is that I made a lot of mistakes in my life, made some really bad choices. I'm paying for them now, and will be until I'm in the ground."

What mistakes could he have possibly made? He never appeared regretful over anything before. No, wait. There was one thing he'd mentioned in the past. "You mean like when you did time?"

It occurred to me that though he told me he did ten years in an upstate prison, he never revealed the reason why. And I never had asked, because I knew it was pointless. If he didn't offer the information on his own, it was obvious that he didn't want me to have it.

"Well, yeah, that was one of many. But by no means my worst."

Ten years. A large part of his life locked up behind bars, and yet it gets worse than that? I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know, but I asked anyway. "So what would you say was the worst one you made?"

He stared down at his left hand. I noticed he was back to twisting his ring once again.

"You know, it's a funny thing about that." But his tone indicated that he found nothing humorous about it at all. "Every mistake I ever made, I realized fairly quickly that I'd screwed up, and afterwards I would spend time analyzing what I did wrong and why. I tried to learn something about the situation and myself from each one, so I could prevent it from happening again.

"But the one that really fucked up my life? It happened a very long time ago, when I was about your age. But I wasn't even aware of it until this past couple years or so. Like I told you many times, C, it's the small ones you really need to look out for. They can mess you up just as bad, if not worse, than the larger ones, and chances are you won't see it until it's too late."

My curiosity was piqued. "So, what was it? What did you do wrong?"

A quick shrug. "It was a simple misjudgment on my part. I thought the end would justify the means. Turns out I was very wrong."

"It didn't?" I prodded.

With a heavy sigh, he looked down. I saw his lips tighten as he closed his eyes again. His right hand wrapped around his left pinky. Had he always had a habit of playing with his ring before? It was strange how, after so long of observing him, I had never noticed this.

"It might have, but if so, I'll never find out. Because what I failed to see ahead of time, was that the end that I had wished for was, in fact, the price I had to pay for the means. So, everything I had wanted to achieve, I lost before I could even touch it. Now, I'm just left with the means."

He paused for a brief moment. "I feel like a hamster on one of those fucking wheel things." He spun his index finger in a quick circle a few times. "Only I can't stop and rest. The momentum just keeps me running in the same direction endlessly, and there is no quitting until I'm dead."

He finally opened his eyes and turned back to me. "What it comes down to, C, is that you need to make a decision, and make it soon. If it's really your life-long dream to become like a trapped rodent, hopelessly running non-stop in the same fucking circle until you finally drop dead, then they just toss your body into the garbage and replace you with a new rodent just like you, then what can I tell you? You just go ahead, try to follow in my footsteps. But I strongly recommend that you think very long and very hard about it first."


	7. Sonny's choices

Ten years I'd spent observing him. Eight of those years we'd been friends, and now this total stranger suddenly shows up. Who the hell was he, and why was he here?

I didn't care for him much. I wished he'd just go back to wherever it was that he'd been hiding for all this time, and let me talk to my friend without his interference.

But then, a disturbing thought hit me. What if this stranger was the real Sonny, and the one that I knew wasn't? Could it be possible that the one I considered to be my friend was nothing more than an act he put on to conceal this obviously unhappy man who seemed to have lost all hope?

'Deceit is his profession. Most of his life is based on and built with lies.'

I considered it for a moment, then dismissed it as bullshit. There was no way anyone could keep up such a convincing act for so long. Was there? I wanted to learn more.

"So, what was the end? What did you hope to get that you lost?"

He cocked his head slightly to the right, as his shoulder came up in a quick shrug. "A life. _My_ life."

"Whose life do you have now?"

I wanted to take back those words as soon as I said them. I guess I'd meant it to be a sort of joke to lighten things up, but from the ice-cold glare I received I knew that it was a mistake.

"Not mine." His tone was hard, sharp. "I have no control over it. It's fucked up. I can and do make decisions every day that impact the lives of others. I can make someone's year, or I can make him wish he'd never been born, depending on my mood at that moment. But my own?" He didn't say any more; just pursed his lips and shook his head.

I tried hard to make sense of what he was saying, but it was difficult. He had the power and position to influence the lives of others, to decide their fates. I got that. But what was stopping him from deciding his own?

After a minute or so, he continued with a sigh. "It's my own fault. I was careless, wasn't paying attention to what was really going on. I gave it up, and everything that went along with it. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I figured by now I would've fell in love with some broad, got married, had a family of my own, all that bullshit. But I know now that it ain't ever going to happen. This was the choice I made, and now I live with it."

"But you can still get those things. In fact, I'd put money down that you can get almost any woman you want—"

"Yeah, sure." He cut me off. "Getting them isn't a problem. Keeping them is a different story, though. But it doesn't matter. I told you before, I had my three great ones already. Unfortunately, that's how it sometimes works out."

"So you say, but what if you're wrong? What if you miscounted, or there's a fourth one out there? You never know, right?" For his sake, I tried to sound optimistic.

"It's not possible. Because at this point, even if it were true, I could never be sure whether it was really me that she loved, or my lifestyle."

Of course you could never be sure, because you don't trust anyone. I guess it would be hard to keep a relationship going like that. But still, I could see his point and I was glad I didn't have such a problem. Jane liked me for me, I was sure of that. Well, at least until earlier tonight when I lost my temper while arguing with her brother and called him a 'fucking nigger' right in front of her. It wasn't intentional, it just slipped out. I don't even know where it came from. It's not a word I normally use at all. But in that instant, everything changed between me and Jane. Sonny was right about that as well. If you lose control even for just a minute, it takes only seconds for anything to happen and-

"You know it's my birthday next week?" His voice interrupted my thoughts, confusing me, because the question itself seemed to come from nowhere.

"Yeah, I know." I never forgot his birthday, as he never forgot mine. In fact, this weekend I planned to shop for a gift. I knew it would be a difficult task, as it was every year. The problem was that anything he could possibly want, chances are he already had.

"Well this one is different. I'm going to be forty this year."

"Forty? Damn. Really?"

I hadn't meant to say that out loud. Of course, I knew he was older than me, but at the same time I couldn't see him as old. If that made any sense.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Hey, don't you start looking for a shovel, I ain't ready to go just yet." He managed a small, tight-lipped smile for a moment before continuing, "Honestly, I never really thought that I would make it this far.

"Anyway, what I want to say is, you do the right thing and don't let yourself become like me. Forty years sneak up faster than you can imagine, kid, and what really sucks is waking up on your fortieth birthday and realizing that you have no control over your life. You have nothing, you've accomplished nothing, and there's no one to blame but yourself. You stay off my path. Don't do as I've done, and you should be fine. And if you ever need any help with anything, you know where to find me."

"Thanks Sonny, I'll keep that in mind."

I took a few seconds to debate whether I should say what I said next. I should have taken longer.

"And you shouldn't be so down on yourself. Sometimes things don't go as we planned, but it's not always your own fault. Instead of dwelling on what you don't have, try looking at what you do. You have plenty to be"-

I got that far before his mood instantly changed. He scowled, and his glower demanded silence. I immediately stopped speaking and looked down. Now what did I say wrong? I noticed his hands were clenched into fists.

"C, listen to me and listen good." His tone was slow and deliberate. He didn't yell, he didn't raise his voice at all, but I could tell it was taking no small amount of effort on his part not to.

"Maybe I'm not making myself clear to you? Because I don't understand how it's possible after I explained all this, that you still believe that I have plenty. What the fuck is it that you think I have that's really worth anything?"

Oh, I don't know, I thought to myself. How about a new luxury convertible, beautiful home, a closet full of expensive tailored suits, more cash in your pocket than most people would see in an entire year. And speaking of people, how about a whole line of them that fall over themselves each day just to kiss your ass? Yeah, you may have given up a few things along the way, but still, I don't think you quite fit into the 'sucks to be you' category.

Of course, I wouldn't say this to him, though. There was no point. He most likely wouldn't get it, and the way he was acting tonight, it would probably would just piss him off even more.

He seemed just a little less angry when he spoke again. Only a little, but to me it was still an improvement.

"The only thing I have is a bunch of material crap that I couldn't care less about. It's just money, but since you seem to be in the mood to throw clichés around, then let me send one back to you. Money can't buy you happiness. Yeah, C, it's true. Money means nothing. It's love, family, friends - that's what makes a man rich. And you can't purchase these things with money, because unlike a house or a car, you can't buy people. The best you can hope to do is maybe rent them for a while, but always remember, they'll never truly be yours."

He paused before his voice softened. "But when I was your age, I didn't know any of this. I thought money solved all problems. That it would get me anything I wanted. So, I found some easy ways to make good money. You understand what I'm saying to you?"

"Yeah, I understand."

He glared at me in silence.

"I mean... I'm not sure, but I think so."

After a loud sigh that sounded eerily like my father, he said "You think so?" Then a snort of derision. "You don't understand shit, kid."

It was my turn to look away. I didn't need this. This entire night had been probably the most miserable one in my seventeen years of existence, and I just wanted to go home, get some sleep and let it be over.

I glanced out my window, letting my eyes wander through the dark tree line that bordered the parking lot. I managed to get of the car earlier. If only I'd just kept walking. If I hadn't turned back.

It's the small choices that we make.

He turned somewhat in his seat and extended his left arm in my direction as if he were reaching for my door handle, but instead he grabbed my right shoulder, pulling it towards himself so I was forced to face him again. I felt slight relief to see he'd calmed down a bit, but there was something else there in his facial expression. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly, but it made me uneasy.

"C, it all starts off easy. Too easy. But that's how it works. Nobody is just going to come up to you one day, hand you a gun, and say 'We want you to plug some guy. There's a G in it for you.'" He threw me a sarcastic smile.

Was this his way of making fun of me because I believed him earlier? Ball-breaking bastard.

He continued. "If somebody does approach you like that, it's either one of two things. Either he's messing with you, or he's trying to set you up. Your standard response to both should be to laugh and walk away."

Then his tone suddenly changed, becoming lower and more direct. "Because the ones who are serious will never approach you like that. It will be a friend or someone you know pretty well that will bring you in. He'll ask you for a small favor; he'll need you to help him out with something. All you have to do is just take a ride with him for a simple task. He'll make it sound easy. You won't have to talk to anyone. Maybe you won't even need to get out of the car. Chances are, he'll offer you a decent amount of money for helping him out. No problem. It sounds like a good deal, right?"

Yeah it did. But, sensing a trap, I didn't say this to him. I offered him a quick shrug instead.

"Well, it's not. You see, that's how it starts. I'm not going to lie to you, though. From there, the money just keeps getting better. But the work gets harder. Then you start becoming a mental gymnast."

Huh? "Become a what?"

"Mental gymnastics." His index finger spun around in a circular motion, as it did earlier when he described the hamster on the wheel. "You start questioning the morality of some of these jobs, so your mind starts flipping around doing somersaults, trying to find a way to justify what you are doing. Things like 'It's only a few cases of whatever - they have plenty, they'll never miss it and they can make a claim on their insurance,' or 'The target deserves a good beating - he said this to that one, he did this thing to that guy..' Whatever.

"It doesn't have to be true, you just need to believe it is. The mind is pretty amazing. It can come up with all sorts of reasonable-sounding excuses when you wish to ease your conscience."

He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. Not hard, but just enough to let me know he wanted my full attention.

"Then one day, it'll happen. You'll be given a job that takes things too far. You know that no matter how hard you try, you won't be able to justify it. We're not talking about hijacking a truck, hitting a warehouse, or even roughing up some deadbeat to get him to pay what he owes, or whatever other type of bullshit you've been doing up until that point. We're talking about the kind of shit that you know will guarantee your soul an extra warm place in hell." He tilted his head slightly downward, never removing his eyes from mine. "You know what I mean?"

I did, but my mouth and throat suddenly felt tight and dry. I couldn't say anything. All I could do was nod my head slowly and solemnly in affirmation. His eyes probed mine, and somehow I knew that he was checking, to be sure.

Finally, after a few moments, he returned a short nod, and under his breath - as if more to himself than me, - I heard him say "You do."

His lips tightened and he released me. Leaning back into his seat, he stared straight out the windshield at nothing in particular, and remained silent.

What was happening here wasn't lost on me. It wasn't just him offering me a hypothetical situation, and he wasn't just warning me how and what could happen. He was telling me his own story, in his own way.

He had the same blank, corpse-like expression on his face, that he had on the way over here. But now I understood. This is how he appeared when he revisited his past. When he dug up certain memories that he normally kept buried deep within their own graves. Things that probably should've been left completely covered and unseen. But for some reason, after years of silence, he chose here and now to bring them to the surface. Why? Only he knew.

Did he think that knowing about some of the things he'd done would shock me? He did nothing but confirm what I had already suspected. I mean, for God's sake, he gunned down a man in the street right in front of me when I was just nine years old. It wasn't a 'job', it wasn't even his fight. But he moved in quickly and shot the guy in the arm, and the second time he fired he hit the mark perfectly dead center in the guy's forehead. Even after the guy was sprawled out on his back, unconscious or perhaps even dead already, Sonny then stood right above his still body and put two more rounds into him.

He certainly didn't strike me at the type who would have any reservations about taking a life when he felt it necessary, so why did he appear so disturbed now?

Maybe the first time is the hardest, and it gets easier from there? I didn't see how that could be possible. Or perhaps something really horrible happened his first time, but if so, he wouldn't tell me, anyway.

'Something to guarantee your soul to hell, you know what I mean?'

He couldn't even bring himself to simply say the actual words that described what he'd done, so I knew no details would be forthcoming.

I cast a quick side glance his way. I don't know how or why he did it. He obviously knew ahead of time that he'd regret it, and he was correct about that. But if his point was to warn me about taking the same path that he had, he could have saved himself some pain. I wouldn't do it. Hadn't I just proven that to him during that whole 'plug Jimmy' bullshit? Okay, maybe I did do some mental gymnastics, telling myself that if Jimmy had something to do with Sonny's car, then he very much deserved what he had coming, but never once did I think I'd be the one to take care of it. I couldn't. Even if Jimmy sat there, smiling in my face, saying, 'Yeah it was me, and I'd do it again if possible.' I'd still be incapable of it. But Sonny could. And no doubt would.

Though I understood this was a personal story, for his own comfort I decided to keep it in abstract. "So what does someone do in that situation? They'd have to walk away. Tell them thanks, but no thanks, this is not for me."

He shook his head. "You can't do that. Maybe there was a time when you could have, in the very beginning, when things were easy. But no more. The door that leads out is now closed and bolted shut. It's strange how hard it is to see what's happening until it's too late. All that time up until then, you thought you were just trading a small amount of your labor for easy money. But there really is no such thing. Once the door slams shut behind you, that's when you realize that there was no trade at all. It was actually a sale. That you have already sold yourself to them; now they own you. Your life belongs to them. Forever. Capisci?"

I didn't. Not fully, "But can't you just-"

"No, C." He cut my off sharply. His three-finger gesture was back, pointing at my chest once again. "You remember what I told you? Be very careful. You see, if you tell them 'No' or 'Thanks, but no thanks' - as you put it - from the very beginning, it's cool. They have no problem with that. It's when you first tell them 'Yes', then later decide to change it to 'No', that's when things are going to get very unpleasant, very quickly."

Slowly what he was saying started to seep in, and I began to understand. At the same time, I realized that his life wasn't at all as it appeared to be, and it was certainly nowhere near as appealing as I had believed it was.

'Based on and built with lies.'

The lies you tell others, and - more importantly - the ones you use to convince yourself. I was wrong earlier. Nobody in their right mind would willingly choose to live this way, but all it takes is for you to let your guard down for just a minute, and a small unintentional choice could shape your life forever. It was all clicking neatly into place now, why didn't I see it before?

"I understand," I assured him.

He once again checked my eyes for the truth, and seemed satisfied. "So, you'll go along with whatever they tell you, and you'll settle up with your conscience one way or another. It doesn't hurt that the money has increased too." He shrugged. "It doesn't make you feel better, but it can help take your mind off things for a while. That is, what you get to keep."

"What you get to keep?"

"Don't worry about it. That comes later. It's just their way of regularly reminding you that your purpose in life is to serve them, and to make sure that you stay productive and useful."

He waved his hand quickly in dismissal, but I already understood. He'd gotten past much of what he was discussing, and this was the point he'd reached. Now he was the one giving out jobs, and paying his people for carrying out his orders. But he was still owned by those above him, and they got a cut of his take right off the top, the same way he did with Tony and others. Now I almost understood his comparison to a hamster wheel.

"Anyway," he continued, "Here's your other problem. Almost every job you do, no matter what it is, you'll most likely create an enemy for yourself. And after a while, you're going to have a decent-sized collection. The majority of them will never act out against you - that's where fear becomes useful. It keeps them in line. But there'll always be that one or two that just don't give a fuck. They're either too dumb or crazy to be afraid, or their anger just overpowers any fear they might have. But no matter what the reason is, you can never forget that these guys are dangerous. You can't fool yourself for even a moment into thinking these guys don't exist. If you allow yourself to become cocky, believing that you're untouchable because you have the right people on your side, or that fear alone will protect you, then you won't be around very long. I've seen this happen more times than I can count. Seriously" - he looked down with a wince and shaking his head slowly as he continued - "I really have lost count."

"Your eyes and ears always have to be open," I said softly, while thinking it over.

"Well, they should be anyway, regardless of how you live. But yes, when dealing with certain…elements, it's even more important, of course. You have to watch everybody around you, all the time. Everybody. And I know you don't want to hear it, C, but trust doesn't belong in that world. It can't be allowed, and I'll tell you why. The sad fact of it is that often, when your number comes up, it may be some stranger in the shadows who created the job, but the one who actually does the work will most likely be a friend of yours. One that's right there next to you - smiling, laughing, joking around as usual less than a minute before 'lights out'. And that's how it is. You take the precautions that you need to, or you take your chances. But just know if you choose that second one, your luck will run out. Most likely sooner than later. It's unavoidable."

He turned back to me, maybe to check my reaction, but I think he was expecting a reply. But I couldn't respond. My throat had closed up again. Had I told him earlier that this was a horrible way to live? I was wrong. This was beyond horrible. It was fucking hell on earth.

He narrowed his eyes, maybe he saw something in my face, but it prompted him to go on. "But once again, this isn't for you. You do as we discussed before, you stay in school – hey, that's right, you're graduating this year, aren't you?"

I managed to get enough saliva together to swallow and my throat started to loosen up again, but I still just nodded.

"That's great. You finish up, go to college. Make something of yourself. You be an independent thinker, and don't let anybody ever own you. You do these things, and you won't become the guy who spends every minute looking over his shoulder, or makes a habit of saying a quick prayer every time he starts his car up."

At that last comment, I felt my eyes momentarily widen as the reality of it all hit me. That wasn't necessary, Sonny. I knew who you were talking about this whole time. But I guess he just wanted to be sure.

"Anyway," his tone indicated that he wanted to get back on subject, "Can you do that for me, C? Can you give me your word?"

Absolutely. "Yeah, Sonny." And this time I initiated the eye contact to let him know I was serious. "You have my word. When you're not at the bar, I'll stay away."

"Thanks," He flashed a small smile, "It's for your own good, but it also takes at least one thing off my mind, and I appreciate it. But" - his tone suddenly became sharp - "if by chance _anyone_ , and I don't care who the fuck it is, ever approaches you in the ways I've talked about tonight, you don't listen to them. Right away, you politely excuse yourself, you say whatever you need to in order to get away from them, and then you come tell me. _Immediately._ " On that last word, his hand had formed his three-finger position, and jabbed in my direction for emphasis. "Then you let me handle it. Got it?"


	8. Never plug the driver

"Okay Sonny, I will. But again, just to let you know, not a single one of them has ever done that," I informed him.

He shook his head. "That means nothing. There's always a first time for everything. They know how I feel about this, but I learned long ago to never expect much out of people. It saves me a lot of disappointment. Still, fear and respect will keep most of them from crossing that line. If anything, it's the one who has respect but runs short in the fear department who, I believe, would try to approach you."

This aroused my curiosity. Which one didn't fear Sonny? I thought they all did, in varying degrees. So, who feared him the least?

After a minute or so, the answer came to me. It was the one who dared to look Sonny in the eyes, even when Sonny was pissed off. The one who often offered his advice to Sonny, whether it was asked for or not. The one who, on more than one occasion, objected if Sonny made a statement or gave an order that he disagreed with. In the end, Sonny would always win, but still there was no one else who would dare to challenge him like that. It had to be him. I looked over towards the bar.

Sonny cast a quick glance at me, then turned his gaze in the same direction. "Yeah, that's right. Be careful always, but be especially alert around Jimmy. He ain't like the others. Or should I say, the others ain't like him. He's a slick and sneaky bastard. If you're thinking three steps ahead, I can guarantee you that he's thinking six. I'm telling you right now, for your own good, don't ever trust him, C. Unlike me, he does not have your best interests at heart, no matter how sincere he may seem as he tries to convince you otherwise." He ended with a quick shrug.

His tone was harsh and cast a much different light on the relationship that I had thought they had. "But I thought you liked Jimmy?" I considered this for a moment before I added "But then again, I couldn't help but notice you chose Jimmy over Danny for me to 'plug'." I threw him my own lopsided smile.

He returned the expression. "I don't want to be the one who gives you advice or tips on how to carry out such a job, but I'll make an exception this one time. If you ever find yourself in a position where you need to do some work from the back seat of a moving car" - he stopped short, giving me a firm look before continuing - "not that it would ever happen, of course, because I would've found out long before it came to that and I would've broken both your arms and legs by then, but just for the sake of education, here's my advice. Remember, you never plug the guy who's driving. It tends to bring on a whole new set of problems for you. Okay?"

"Okay, got it," I chuckled. Then I tried my best to appear doubtful, and innocently widened my eyes. "But _both_ my arms and legs?"

He didn't hesitate, not even for a moment. "Yeah. Both." His expression and tone were completely deadpan. "For something like that C, the best thing I can do for you is to give you as much time as possible to just lie there, unable to do anything but think about the poor choice that you made. And who knows? By the time you finally heal, maybe you would've become much smarter."

I had been just teasing him, and at first I had thought he was teasing me back. Now I wasn't so sure. But there was no way possible that I'd even consider testing him to find out. "It would never come to that, Sonny."

"I don't believe it would, either. But just so you know, this way it won't be a complete surprise." He winked, but even that didn't seem to make him appear any less serious. "But as to Jimmy, I know what he is and I accept him for it. 'Like' has nothing to do with it. He's smart, competent, dependable, he gets things done and he does them right. He's a big help, and a great asset. To me."

Once again, his trademark gesture pointed right at my chest. "But to you? He's cancer. Stay away. You let even a little bit of him in, you're as good as dead. You understand me?"

"Yeah, I understand, and I'll be very careful."

Everything he'd told me tonight flashed through my mind. "Believe me, I will." And from the look he gave me, I could tell that he did.

"Good." Then, for the first time tonight, he raised his left wrist and glanced at his watch, squinting to see it in the dim light. "It's getting late. Go tell them I said it's time to hit the road. Tell Jimmy first, then both of you can work on dragging Danny out."

I nodded and reached for my door handle when I realized there was just more thing I needed to say to him. "Sonny, I just wanted to thank you again. For everything. I learned so much from you over the years, but tonight" - I searched for the right words - "you really opened my eyes. I get it now. I don't know why you waited so long to tell me these things. I guess you had your reasons, but I'm glad you finally did. I just wanted you to know this."

He nodded, offering a small smile in return. "I appreciate that C, and I'm glad you finally get it. I know now it was worth it. That you're worth it. But my reason? To tell you the truth, it's something I've been thinking about as well. For years now, I just convinced myself that you didn't need to hear about things like this. Whether you like it or not, you do have this innocence about you, and as I said before, that's not a bad thing. I just didn't want to ruin it with this kind of shit, and that may have been true when you were younger.

"But lately I started to believe that the real reason was just me being selfish. That I didn't want you to think any less of me, that's all."

He sighed softly.

"Then after what happened between us earlier tonight, after you walked away, I realized that it didn't matter. That it was much more important that you not think too much of me."

Though his expression was unreadable, I was pretty sure I detected an undertone of sadness in his voice, and this bothered me. "Well, it's too late for that. All these years you kept that shit hidden, and as a result, I only got to see who you really are. Not _that_ guy. But the one who lives right here." I tapped the center of my chest. "That's the only guy I know. You've become a second father to me, and I love you like one. I think so much of you already that nothing that was said or done tonight could make me think less."

I saw his eyes narrow, but this time I was prepared for it. " _But_ ," I continued sharply, pointing my index finger straight up to ward off his anger until I was finished, "that doesn't mean that I want to travel the same path as you. Your life is yours, you do what you have to. I have different plans, and I'll do what I have to do. I'm going to graduate and I'm going to college. I'm going to be in charge of my own life. You'll see. I'm going to make you proud of me, and I promise you, that you'll never have to break my arms and legs."

He turned away from me at that point, looking down and shaking his head slowly. "Fucking kid," he muttered under his breath, and sighed.

I waited for his response, having no idea what it would be. I couldn't even begin to guess what may have been going through his mind, and sure enough, when he looked back up, it wasn't what I expected at all.

He was smiling, but this time it was his real smile. Not his sly smile, or his sarcastic one, or the tight-lipped one, the small weak one or any of the ones he often used. This was the genuine one, the one he used to express true happiness, and it was one that was rarely ever seen. It was easy to distinguish from the others by the way his lips pulled back to show his top row of teeth, and it caused small deep lines to break out from the corners of his eyes.

His arms wrapped around me, grabbing my back. "Come here, you," was all he said as he pulled me into an embrace. I wrapped my arms around him and held on. I could smell his cologne now; the same one he always wore. I really liked that scent, and it always reminded me of him. One day, I'd have to find out what the name of it was.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a soft, light kiss on my cheek and in a just as soft, low voice, "You know, that's all I ever wanted to hear from you, kid. And I'm already proud of you."

I squeezed my arms briefly, bringing him closer to me. What the heck, why not? I returned a brief kiss to his cheek as well, "Thanks Sonny."

"No, thank you," he responded before patting me twice on the back and releasing me, returning back to his seat.

I leaned back in my own seat, I have to admit I was a bit stunned by his sudden display of affection that I'd never seen before. No, wait, that wasn't completely true. One time when I was nine years old, Sonny and the guys were all playing craps in the basement of the bar, as they often did. He was teaching me to play dice. He would put the money down and have me throw for him. In a crazy case of beginner's luck, I made eleven passes in a row. I don't remember how much money Sonny won by me that day, but I know it was in the thousands.

And a couple of times after Jimmy collected his money for him, I remember Sonny leaning down, hugging me, kissing me on the cheek and telling the others 'That's my boy! I love this fucking kid!'

I smiled inside at the memory, as well as the thought that to him, my heartfelt speech ranked right up there with winning thousands of dollars at craps. I guess I couldn't ask for more than that, right?

His voice broke into my thoughts once again. "Better go get them," with a short nod towards the bar.

"Okay." I grabbed the door handle. "By the way, where are we going?"

"Back to the bar."

I paused, prompting a short, "What?" from him.

I shrugged, wondering if I should say what I was thinking. He was much smarter than me when it came to these things; who was I to second guess him? But I had to try, "Look, I know I'm just an _innocent_ , but I'm wondering if it's a good idea to go back there. It's a public place, it's Friday night, it's going to be crowded. Maybe it'd be a better idea if you just laid low until the situation's resolved or something?"

"Now, you're scaring me." He tightened his lips together, then parted them slightly to release his breath. "You sound just like Jimmy."

"I'm sorry," I shrugged. "I just want what's best for you."

"Yeah, I know. But it's my bar. My neighborhood. What's best for me is to be there. Remember what I told you not long ago? About availability?"

I nodded slowly.

"Besides, I'm not letting some asshole keep me from being where I'm supposed to be. Don't worry about it, C. There will be extra security there tonight and for a while. Also starting tonight, there'll be guards both inside and outside my house. But no matter what, it'll all be okay."

"Alright, Sonny." I should've known that he'd have everything under control. Unlike earlier, I was now certain that this wasn't his first time dealing with this type of situation.

"I want to get back there soon, I'm supposed to meet with some people. I'm hoping that they have some information for me, preferably good news, so then we can all relax a little bit. Until next time, anyway."

"Okay, I'll go get them. Hey, do you want to come in? Danny might leave quicker if you're there to push him out the door."

He shook his head. "No, just tell him I said to move his ass. I need a few minutes to myself to collect my thoughts. My mind's speeding in a hundred different directions tonight."

"Okay, you do that and I'll be right back." I hopped out of the car and sprinted my way up to the bar's front door.


	9. Missing at Morrows

As I reached the door, I was finally able to read the name on the sign. Windy Morrows tavern? What kind of name was Windy Morrows? Then again, what kind of name was Chez Bippy, when you really thought about it?

I opened the door and adjusted my eyes to the light. I'd been in that dimly lit car for too long. The Fleetwoods' song 'Come Softly to Me' was playing on the jukebox. Damn, that song was old. I must have been around eight when it first came out. But it suited the atmosphere - a quiet, respectable place with well-behaved patrons.

The wooden floorboards creaked and gave a little under my feet, adding to the warm, but slightly run-down, character of the place. On my left there was a long, straight bar that ran down the length of the room. It was made of a dark-colored wood, matching the paneling on the walls. There were many visible scuffs on the bottom front of the bar, just above the dull brass railing, where people would put their feet as they sat on the mismatched stools that also looked as if they had seen better days.

I glanced behind the bar at the rows of what should have been their 'top shelf' liquor. Maybe it was - I couldn't really tell. The entire back wall was very dim, unlike Chez Bippy, where a couple of small, well-hidden lights illuminated the higher-quality stock nicely without being distracting. Directly in front of the barely-visible bottles stood an almost-cliché bartender in an apron, looking bored as he towel-dried a freshly-washed glass. He acknowledged me with a nod as I entered.

There were people scattered about in small groups. And then there was Danny, down at the other end of the bar. He held a bottle of beer in his right hand, and a cute strawberry-blonde girl's ass in his left. He held her tight against him, whispering something into her neck. She giggled and tried to slip her hand under his shirt. Yeah, there was no doubt in my mind that he was going to be difficult to get out the door.

I needed to find Jimmy, but where was he?

I walked through the bar, checking the six or so booths lined up on the right wall. There were a couple which were occupied, a few that were empty, and the last one contained nothing but a half full glass, abandoned on the table. This was just great. Sonny wants to head back now, Danny had his hands full, and Jimmy was missing.

I was left with little choice.

Danny didn't even notice as I walked up next to him. "Hey Danny, have you seen Jimmy?"

Of course, he ignored me. His attention was elsewhere.

"Danny!" I tried louder, sharper. That worked.

He jumped slightly, removing his mouth from her neck and appeared startled to see me standing there. "Oh, hey C, how you doing?"

"Fine. Where's Jimmy?"

The redhead in his arms chimed in. "Danny? I thought you said your name was Brian?"

He smiled down at her, softly rocking himself as well as her as if they were slow dancing. "It is Brian, but he calls me Danny and I call him C. Right C?" He cast a fast glance in my direction to make sure I had gotten the message.

I let loose an undetectable sigh. "Yeah, that's right Danny-Brian. Now where's Jimmy what's-his name?"

He peered over my shoulder at the opposite wall. "I don't know. He was just here a minute ago. Try the men's room."

Then he quickly turned his attention to where he wanted it, swaying back and forth. He softly sang along with the lyrics. "I want, want you to know, that I love, I love you so.."

Unbelievable. I headed to the barely-illuminated rear of the bar. I saw nothing at first, then I spotted the darkened corridor leading further down. As I approached it, another sign, this one with a single word 'Restrooms' burned into the wood, directed me down the very dim and narrow hallway. As I turned the corner, I almost ran head-on into Jimmy, who was coming from the opposite direction.

Unlike Danny, he did not appear surprised to see me at all. "Hi C, what's going on?"

"Hi Jimmy, I was looking for you."

His thumb jabbed backwards over his shoulder. "I was just on the phone checking some things. So, what's up?"

"Sonny wants to go back now."

"Fine by me, it's about time. Let's go." He pointed over my shoulder, as if to remind me that neither of us were going anywhere until I turned around. I obliged.

We entered the front room. Jimmy headed to the booth with the abandoned glass and downed the remainder in one shot. He placed a ten-dollar bill on the table and the empty glass over it, then turned to Danny, who appeared to be in a tongue-wrestling contest with his new friend. I stayed right behind Jimmy as he approached him, curious to see how he planned to separate them.

As he came to a stop, Jimmy didn't hesitate at all. He just clapped his hands loudly three times into Danny's ear. It was very effective. Danny jumped and broke suction. Not to mention we also had the attention of all the patrons within a fifteen foot radius, including the bartender. "Let's go, we're leaving," Jimmy informed him.

"Okay, I'll be with you in a minute," Danny said before turning his attention back to his target.

"Hey!" Jimmy's tone was sharp, no nonsense. "Sonny says _now_."

The girl giggled. "Sonny says? Is that anything like Simon says?"

Danny's grin widened. "Yeah, actually, it's a _lot_ like Simon says," he snickered.

"Cool!" She lowered her voice a bit. "I want to play. You want to play with me? You can teach me as we go..?" She not-so-subtly moved her hips against his.

We all knew what Danny's answer would be, but he never got to say it, because Jimmy's hand suddenly came up and gave Danny a warning smack to the back of his head. "Now," Jimmy reminded him.

Danny released her, casting an unhappy look Jimmy's way. Jimmy just shrugged it off. "Don't you look at me like that. You know if he has to come in here to get you, it's going to be much worse."

Danny didn't reply, but the thought seemed to put him in a more serious mood. He tossed some bills onto the bar and grabbed his beer. "Sorry, darling, I gotta go."

She pouted, almost exaggeratedly. "You're going to call me, right, Brian?"

"Yeah, sure. Tonight, when I get home. Or tomorrow, if I fall asleep." He gave her a quick peck and finally, the three of us were heading for the door.

When we got outside, I couldn't help but stare at the beer in Danny's hand. I wasn't a big fan of beer, but I was so thirsty at that point, anything wet would do. "Hey Danny, you mind?" I asked while pointing at the bottle.

He handed it right over. "Here. Enjoy."

It was still cold, not flat, and probably the best beer I had ever had. I was that dry. I swallowed it all down and tossed it into the can outside the door before breaking into a sprint to catch up with them.

They were already at the car, standing there on opposite sides, front doors both open, just staring at each other over the roof. I crossed around the front of the car to head for my door, when Jimmy called out "Hey, C! Where the hell's Sonny?"

I stopped, puzzled by the question. "He's in the car."

"Where?" Jimmy retorted. "In the fucking trunk?"

I reached Jimmy then, and a quick glance through the door confirmed that the back seat was indeed empty. Through the window where Sonny had been sitting, I saw Danny heading towards the back of the car. I was confused. Where could Sonny have gone?

Jimmy's expression hardened as he pointed at the passenger seat. "Sit!" he commanded, as if I was a dog.

I began to protest. "Jimmy, he was just-"

"Sit!" he ordered again, jabbing his finger at the seat.

I obeyed, and as I did, I heard a noise in the back of the car. I turned to look out the rear window, only to see the trunk lid as it swung open. It remained up, blocking my view for a few seconds, then closed with a slam that caused the rear of the car to bounce down, then back up again. "Trunks clear," Danny said.

What the heck was that about? Were they trying to prove something to me? They didn't really believe that Sonny had climbed into the trunk, did they?

Suddenly the interior became bright, and I put my head down and squinted. Danny was back at the driver's door and had obviously found the light switch. I went to stand up outside, and that's when I became acutely aware that Jimmy was still in the doorway, blocking my path.

"Just stay right there, C." His voice didn't seem so harsh now, although there was an undertone that I couldn't identify, but knew I didn't care for.

Danny opened the driver's rear door. I turned to see what he was doing, but even as I watched him I still couldn't figure it out. He crouched down, looking over the seat that Sonny and I were just sitting on minutes before. He then examined the carpet, lifting the floormat and looking there as well. What the heck was he looking for? Did he think maybe Sonny left a note or something? No, apparently that wasn't it, because he looked up, checking the headliner as well before backing out and standing up.

"C." Jimmy diverted my attention from Danny. "What's going on here?"

"I don't know," I told him honestly. "He was just here a few minutes ago. He told me to get you guys, because he wanted to leave."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. I couldn't tell if he believed me or not. "So, he sent you to come get us?"

Isn't that what I had just said? "Yeah, he did."

I paused, then volunteered what I knew. "I even asked him if he wanted to come in with me, but he said no. He said he wanted a few minutes to himself to think some things over."

I shrugged. I didn't know what more I could say, other than the question that was on my mind "Where could he go out here in just a few minutes?"

That's what I'm wondering," he replied dryly.

Danny came up behind Jimmy, grabbing his arm to pull him away. Jimmy pointed directly at me. "Just stay there." He walked with Danny to the back of the car.

My eyes followed, but I lost sight of them as they moved into a blind spot. I didn't dare shift position in my seat. But the lot was so quiet, I could still hear them, even though they tried to keep their voices low.

"No blood, no sign of a struggle," Danny reported.

Jimmy sighed. "What the fuck is going on here?"

I heard no response from Danny.

"Okay," the volume of Jimmy's voice decreased further. "I'm going to talk to the kid."

"C'mon Jimmy, it's C, for God's sake." Danny almost sounded like he was trying to bring Jimmy to reason. My heart jumped. That didn't sound good either to, or for me.

"I know it's C, but we can't ignore things as they are. First, he takes Sonny's car, and when he brings it back there's a package in it. Then, he's the last one with Sonny, and now Sonny is suddenly missing?"

Again, there was no response from Danny.

I couldn't believe this. I was about the be falsely accused again. For the second time today. Why does everyone so easily believe that I'd want to hurt Sonny? Nothing could be further from the truth. But then it occurred to me. The issue wasn't that they believed that I wanted to hurt him, it was that they couldn't believe that I didn't. In order to do so, it would require trust, which didn't exist in their world. When your number comes up, chances are it will be a friend who calls it. It's not just Sonny. It's all of them. They're all like rodents, trapped on the same fucking wheel.

"It's okay," Jimmy assured him. "I'm just going to talk to him, that's all. Just talk."

I almost relaxed at that. Then I could have sworn I heard Danny groan. Whether he did or not, I couldn't say for sure, but I was certain I heard him in a low voice, "Yeah, right. Just talk, like the last time you said just talk, and it took me hours to clean up that fucking mess"-

Jimmy's footsteps stopped for a moment, though I didn't hear him utter a word. Only Danny, once again. "Whatever. I'll take a look around the perimeter."

Jimmy entered my field of vision. He didn't look upset at all. He appeared friendly. It was the same Jimmy that always sat at our table and socialized with us in the back of Chez Bippy. The same Jimmy that went to the track with us, played cards with us, and gave me my very first fake ID for my birthday last year.

Again, I almost found myself lulled into a false sense of comfort, until I suddenly remembered Sonny's words. That's how they seem even one minute before 'lights out'.

I was aware that I'd broken into a cold sweat, and I felt my heart pounding. 'Way to make yourself look guilty C,' I thought, but I couldn't control it. Where the fuck was Sonny?

My answer came suddenly and unexpectedly from Danny, in his normal voice as opposed to the hushed tones he'd been using. "Hey! There he is!"

Jimmy stopped short, his head turning to the right.

Sensing it was okay to do so now, I slid off my seat and stood up, also gazing into the darkness. Yep. From the tree line at the edge of the lot, a tall figure emerged and headed towards us. Other than its size, no physical features could be distinguished in the darkness. But from the way it moved - the long, quick, determined strides and the way he held his head slightly forward while doing so, it could be none other than Sonny.

And as soon as he entered the circle of light surrounding the lamppost, it was confirmed. I breathed an obvious sigh of relief.

He flashed a disinterested glance at each of us, before heading around the front of the car. "C'mon, let's get moving."

Jimmy swung both his hand out, palms up. "Where the hell were you?" His voice demanded an answer.

Sonny was right. He had to be short in the fear department. There wasn't a single other person, including myself, that would dare to speak to him in that tone.

Sonny didn't seem too impressed with it either. He stopped and glared at him. "I had to take a leak, what's it to you?"

Jimmy's expression remained the same, but his tone changed. He realized that he'd approached a line that he shouldn't cross, and backed off a few steps. "Nothing. It's just that I'm supposed to be watching out for you, which is difficult when I don't know where you are, that's all."

Sonny dismissed him with a quick wave of his hand, and continued on his way. "Next time I'll be sure to let you know. Then you can come along and hold it for me, okay?"

Without waiting for a response that we all knew wouldn't come anyway, he opened the rear door and slid into his seat. The door shut quickly behind him.

The three of us exchanged glances, then climbed into the car, taking our seats as well. Danny fired up the engine, and checked the rearview mirror. "Where we heading?"

"To the bar."

"Okay Sonny"

I couldn't see the expression on Jimmy's face, but I watched the back of his head slowly shake from side to side.


	10. To the bar

Danny effortlessly spun the exceptionally long car around in a single, tight and neat 180-degree maneuver and pulled out of the lot, picking up speed as we headed straight down the dark road.

As I watched out my window, I saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. There were no streetlights here, no buildings. Just darkness. How eerie it all seemed. It was as if the entire world had been swallowed up, except this car, which was time-traveling through a black hole or something. The only illumination was from the headlights, making a path about the width of the car itself, and extending maybe fifteen feet in front of us, before it, too, was consumed by the darkness.

I wondered if this was the area that Sonny was referring to when he said 'where it's dark', while he was explaining where he wanted me to 'plug' Jimmy. As inexperienced as I was in those matters, for some reason I just felt that this would be the right place to do such.

"Slow the fuck down!" Jimmy never removed his eyes from the road ahead. "The turn's coming up soon, and besides, you never know when some stupid suicidal deer will decide to jump into the road and end it all."

Danny snickered. "No problem. We can just stop, wrap it up and take it with us. It's been a long time since I had some good venison."

"Yeah?" Jimmy sounded bored. "Well, you may have to wait even longer for it, because if you damage my car it'll be a while before you'll be enjoying solid foods again."

There was no reply from Danny, but the car's speed noticeably decreased.

"Here," Jimmy commanded. Danny made a smooth left turn, then turned quickly again so we were traveling in the opposite direction. We rode in silence for a little while, then I noticed the reappearance of streetlamps ahead, indicating the on-ramp to the parkway. Danny cut the steering wheel to the left and followed them.

As soon as we hit the parkway, regular lighting, road signs, and the other cars around us indicated that the world had fully returned. The Caddy sped up. I jumped slightly when Sonny, who hadn't bothered to look away from his window, unexpectedly spoke. "Everything taken care of?"

No one answered him. Well, he wasn't talking to me, that much I knew.

"Jimmy?" he prodded.

"Yeah," Jimmy finally responded. "I told you it would be. The bar is set." He paused for just a moment. "If you want, give me the key to the house. I'll bring some guys over there and have everything done by the time you get home." He finally turned around, looking in Sonny's direction.

Sonny didn't bother to do the same. "No, don't worry about it. I have some of my own ideas about that. I'll bring them over myself."

Jimmy shrugged one shoulder, and faced front once again. "Your decision." He remained silent for another minute or so before continuing. "There's one other thing, though."

We all waited, expecting him to reveal the 'one other thing' to us, but it seemed that Jimmy had chosen to stop the conversation right there. Was he waiting for someone to ask? Or did he just want Sonny to break out of the trance he seemed to be in, and at least appear to pay more attention to what he was saying?

I shook my head, silently and slowly. He is listening to you Jimmy, more than you know. Especially at times like now, when it seems that he isn't.

"Which is?" Sonny impatiently prompted him to continue.

Jimmy sounded frustrated, as he loudly exhaled before replying, "A couple of Carm… that is, our friends from the city are there. They have a message for you."

"Yeah?" Sonny's voice had softened a bit.

But Jimmy just shook his head. "The message is for you. But they're not sure how long they can wait. I told them that we were on our way."

"How long ago?"

"Right before C came in to get us."

I looked up at the mention of my name, as I heard Sonny breathe out a single word. "Fuck."

And that was the last word uttered by anyone in that car before we pulled up to the bar.

Fitting in well with everything that had happened so far tonight, the scene in front of the bar was just crazy. I don't remember it ever being that crowded before, even on the best of Friday nights. A lot of familiar faces were hanging around on the sidewalk, mostly Sonny's guys, but there were more than a few unfamiliar ones standing around, talking with them. Then there were neighborhood residents and patrons lined up to get into the place, which was something that I'd never seen before.

I cast a quick side glance at Sonny, who finally faced forward, taking the view in as well. His expression was a mix of disbelief, disgust, and I was sure I also detected a good amount of sadness in there. He appeared to be very disturbed by all of this, and it bothered me to see him that way.

Danny pulled the car around the corner to the side of the building. As soon as he pulled to the curb, three unknown men sprinted around the long hood of the car. One opened the passenger door to let Jimmy out. Being a nobody, I opened my own door to hear Jimmy already giving them orders. "No, two guys. I want two guys on every door to the joint, checking everybody who tries to get in tonight."

I walked around the front of the car, taking in the chaos, while being thankful that the chaos seemed oblivious to me. Danny was already out of the car and was talking with Bobby B, as the two of them blocked the driver's side rear door. "We have to be extra alert," Danny instructed. "Anything can come from any direction."

"Okay." Bobby nodded solemnly. "We can handle this, no problem. I feel sorry for any motherfucker that dares to try anything."

Danny opened Sonny's door, glancing up and down the road as he did. Bobby reached in, lightly taking Sonny's arm as he emerged from the car. When he did finally stood up on the well-lit sidewalk, I saw that he was more miserable than ever, and it tore at me.

It was at this point that it became clear to me. If there was only one thing that was sadder than wasted talent, it was the deep regret and hopelessness that one felt when one realizes this living nightmare that your life had become was the result of some careless choices made long ago.

I'd already given my word to Sonny, and right then I vowed to myself as well, that no matter what, I would never let this happen to me.


	11. The Devil and the zombie

As I approached them, I was unaware that Jimmy was close behind me until he spoke. "Go in the side door," he directed Danny and Bobby; then to Sonny "You should probably stay in the back; it's much easier for us to keep track of what's going on there than up front."

Sonny nodded silently in agreement.

"I'll meet you there in a couple minutes," Jimmy assured him, then he disappeared into the bar. Probably to check that his orders were being carried out.

"Everything's under control," Danny said, but I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Sonny, Bobby, or himself.

"Course it is," Bobby replied. "Someone'd have to be completely suicidal to pull some shit here tonight." He let out a small chuckle to relieve tension, but much like the case with Danny, I wondered if it was more for his own tension than ours.

Before they left, I turned to Sonny to ask if he wanted me to stay or not. He had said I could be at the bar if he was there, but he also said that he didn't think it was a good idea that we hang out together until the situation was resolved. As I glanced at all that was going on around me, I could plainly see that it wasn't.

"Sonny? Did you want me-"

Before I could clarify this with him, I became abruptly aware of a presence - well, two actually - that had seemingly came from nowhere and now flanked me on either side.

I'd never seen these men before. I could say the same about quite a few others here tonight, but there was something about these two, especially the one on my right, that made me instantly uncomfortable.

They were both well dressed, hair neatly slicked back, with gold and diamond rings on both their hands. When the one on my right side smiled, it didn't seem friendly at all. It reminded me of the smile of a predator that had just spotted easy prey.

His voice was deep, smooth and almost hypnotic as he spoke. "Evening, gentlemen." I couldn't help but notice his eyes. They were an unusual shade of light gray. They were cold; they were unreadable. And they were fixated solely on Sonny.

I was nine years old the first time that Sonny looked at me - the day he finally took notice of me. And when it happened, I remember that I'd gone deaf for a few moments, looking into his eyes that were locked on mine as he headed back to the bar right after shooting that man in the street. But this was different.

When this man spoke, I didn't go deaf, but it felt as if my blood was suddenly replaced with ice water. If the devil should ever decide to take a human form to visit earth, I was sure that this is how he would appear. A slight chill ran through me. Perhaps he already had.

It didn't feel any better when I noticed Bobby and Danny's reaction. Neither one bothered to greet him or his friend, but instead they cast their eyes down at the sidewalk.

I was instantly reminded of one of those nature documentaries they made us watch in science class from time to time. I could almost hear the narrator's monotone voice droning:

 _'Just a few short moments ago, the two younger, aggressive wolves were asserting themselves in a display of their strength and power. But as the alpha leader approaches, we see that they suddenly bow their heads and avert their eyes to show their submission to his superior rank in their pack.'_

Under any other circumstances, I might have found this amusing. But not here. Not tonight.

Sonny, however, didn't look away. He stared right back into those icy eyes and held his gaze. He was either in no mood to submit, or most likely, he shared an equal or even higher rank than them.

He addressed the first man, the one who had greeted us. "Vito, it's good to see you. How have you been?"

Vito brushed past me as if I didn't exist, and to him, I probably didn't. He and Sonny quickly embraced. Sonny then turned to the one on my left. "Sandro," he said, and they shared a fast hug as well. At the moment they broke apart, I had a flash of understanding.

Sonny didn't like Vito; however, he was fond of Sandro. His words alone would have indicated differently. He made a point to ask Vito how he was doing, to tell him that he was glad to see him. But with Sandro, he just stated his name as an acknowledgement. However, his body language told me a different story. When he embraced Vito, I could see how he slightly stiffened. His lips were tight and his eyes looked away. With Sandro, his posture was a little more relaxed. His eyes turned in Sandro's direction, and though his lips were still together, they pulled up a little at the corners.

I was proud of myself and how I was able to read him at that moment. For once, I paid attention to what was going on around me and I learned something that I wouldn't otherwise have figured out. I was seeing the benefit of carefully observing and analyzing an interaction; of having both my eyes and ears open.

"We have to go now." Vito lowered his voice. "But we need to talk."

"Yes, of course," Sonny replied before turning to Danny. "You and Bobby go inside. Stay in the back, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Yeah, okay Sonny."

Danny gestured for Bobby to follow him. They went to the side door and spoke a few words to the two men who were guarding it. One of the men glanced over at Sonny, who raised his hand, making a sort of karate chop move twice, as a signal to let them in. The guards moved aside, and Danny and Bobby disappeared into the building.

Now I guess it was my turn. "C," Sonny's voice became soft, "Just give me a few minutes, okay? I've got some business here to take care of, then we'll talk."

"Sure, no problem."

I walked to the corner and stood under the lamppost. Again, I found myself observing the scene in front of the bar. Now I understood that the reason why there was a line to get inside was because the door guards were not only waiting for an okay from someone inside for each person wishing to enter; they were also doing a quick frisk for weapons on those who were let through. I watched them as they even checked a few of the women's handbags.

The only guys who seemed to be able to walk in and out without notice were Sonny's own men. I wondered about the logic of this. Shouldn't they have been checked as well, if chances are it'll be a friend who'll betray you? This made sense to me, but at the same time it bothered me that I was now becoming suspicious of guys that I'd known for years.

But the security seemed rather efficient, and the line had shortened considerable since the time we first pulled up. As a result, the street noise was quieting down, and I found that if I tried really hard, that I could catch some of the conversation taking place next to Jimmy's car.

Vito was talking. "…asking around...knows anything…there is no contract…"

That last line he emphasized, so I heard it clearly.

A different voice - it had to be Sandro - "…check the package…never delivered...wrapped and... fucking amateur..."

Then Sonny. "…a civilian?"

Vito again. "...possibility…can't rule out..."

A package? Back at the tavern earlier, hadn't Jimmy referred to the bomb in Sonny's car as a 'package'? I wondered if that's what they were talking about? Maybe the bomb never went off because it was made or installed by a 'fucking amateur'?

A sharp call from the front of the bar broke my concentration. "C! Hey, C!"

I looked up to see Jojo lumbering towards me. At the same time, I heard Sonny finishing his conversation with the men. " I want to thank you again, for coming out, as well as waiting for me to get here."

I turned and saw them embrace each other again, exchanging kisses to the cheek. Inside, I smiled as I noticed I was right. Sonny repeated the same body language on each man again.

"For you Sonny, anytime." Vito flashed that chilling smile again. "Our mutual friend will be in touch with you tonight or tomorrow. You take care of yourself."

Sandro clapped Sonny on his upper arm, "You take care, and know this. No matter which of us gets hold of this asshole first, before it's over, this cocksucker will know he picked the wrong guy to fuck with."

Vito motioned for Sandro to follow him, and they started to walk up the road. Half way up the block, alongside the curb, I saw a set of headlights suddenly illuminate. A new black Cadillac Fleetwood, identical to the one I had just climbed out of a few minutes ago, pulled onto the road and slowed to a stop next to the men.

As I watched Vito and Sandro enter the rear doors, it struck me as odd that so many of these guys all owned this specific style of car. They were all the same make, model and color, as if it were a standard issue or something. If they all ever gathered for a meeting somewhere, I'd guess they'd have to know their license plate number, otherwise figuring out which car belonged to who in the parking lot would become a major deal itself. Well, except for Sonny, of course. His bright red convertible fit his personality. In a sea of all the same, they both stood out in a crowd.

I jumped as someone grabbed my arm. Jojo finally reached me. "C," he breathed heavily, "I didn't know you were here. A moulignon chick was just here a few minutes ago looking for you. If you hurry, you can probably catch up with her at the corner." He pointed down 187th past my building.

Jane? She was looking for me? This was my chance to make things right! I could feel the broad smile stretch across my face. "Thanks, Jojo!"

"Hey, C!" Behind me. It was Sonny.

I turned to him, blurting out quickly, "I have to go Sonny. Jane was just here. I gotta catch up with her. I need to talk with her. We need to straighten some things out. I'm sorry Sonny, I'll be back in a little while. I just have to do this. I'll catch up with you as soon as I'm done."

Honestly, I don't really remember exactly what I said. I was rambling. The only thing on my mind was catching up with Jane, and what I'd say to her when I did.

He stopped and a smile formed on his lips as well. It reminded me of the one I thought was a satisfied smirk, but he said was just relief. I wasn't sure why he'd feel relieved about me talking with Jane, but I didn't have time to analyze it.

Still smiling, he called out, "Go, do what you got to do. We'll catch up later," and he waved me on. I returned a short wave back, and began sprinting down the block.

About halfway down, I caught sight of her ahead. She walked with a slow, graceful, rhythmical pace. She held her head high, proudly, like royalty. She didn't belong in our neighborhood because of her skin color, and she knew it. But if an outsider, unaware of this, saw her at that moment strolling down the block, he just might think that she owned it. That was one of the things I really liked about her.

"Jane!" I called out to slow her down.

She turned around, "Hey, Calogero! I was looking for you!" And she flashed me the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. A flood of warmth moved through my body, and I realized I wasn't completely drained yet. I still had some emotions left.

* * *

The rest of the story you probably know, so I won't go to deeply into it. Jane and I made up. Her brother told her the truth, she'd come to apologize and I apologized to her as well. We had our first kiss that night, right there on the sidewalk and I didn't give a damn who saw it or what they thought about it. It was fantastic, like heaven on earth. And I know it was on earth because the feeling, like everything else on this planet, was short lived.

When we arrived back at her neighborhood, it was real chaos. What I thought was mass confusion at Chez Bippy tonight was nothing compared to what we saw here. There were so many crowds of people milling all over the streets, no cars could pass. But it didn't matter. I realized, as we walked further in, the roads were blocked off. There were fire trucks, ambulances, police everywhere. As we moved through it all, approaching her corner, that's when I saw it.

It was the car I'd been in earlier. The one with Slick, Mario, Aldo and Ralphie. It was just a burned-out shell in the middle of the road.

I ran towards it, almost reaching it, when I spotted the first body lying next to it near the sidewalk. Then there was the second. The third. The fourth. They were all dead. My friends were all dead. The bodies were covered, but I could still see someone's hand, another's foot. I had no idea which of them it was. They were burned beyond recognition.

Jane found out what happened from her brother. My friends launched a surprise attack on the record store that served as a local hangout for the guys in Jane's neighborhood. They shot the place up, then firebombed it with the cocktails - one of which was hurled back at them as they tried to speed away. It smashed through the window of the car, catching the entire interior on fire before the remaining cocktails in the box on the floor caught as well. The car veered into a parked vehicle and exploded on impact. They were burned alive.

I felt a great amount of sorrow, even as I suspected they weren't real friends to me. The sorrow wasn't for my loss; it was for theirs. They wasted their talent, and my Dad was right. It was probably the saddest thing.

Then it occurred to me that I'd been right there with them, wasting mine, as well. I should be lying on the street alongside their remains. Just an unidentifiable blackened mess under a white sheet, surrounded by an angry crowd spitting and throwing garbage on what was left of my body. And that's exactly what would have happened, if it wasn't for Sonny.

I cheated death twice that day. The first time I was saved by… I wasn't really sure. Perhaps it was God, perhaps it was General Motors, or maybe it was a faulty bomb made by a 'fucking amateur'. But this second time, there was no doubt in my mind as to who was responsible for my being still alive. I needed to talk with him, to tell him, right away.

I said a hasty goodbye to Jane and her brother and took off, running as fast as I could back to my neighborhood. I argued with the guards at the side door to Chez Bippy, until one of Sonny's guys inside recognized me and told them to let me in. I headed straight for the back room, but he wasn't there.

I tried to ask Eddie Mush if he knew where Sonny was, but he was in the middle of a card game and was too pissed off about losing again to give me an answer. Or maybe he did, but it was just so noisy I didn't hear it. I turned and noticed Jimmy at the back bar on the phone. He spotted me, and pointed up front.

Up front? I thought he was supposed to stay in the back? Maybe they got the guy and it was over now? Until next time of course.

As I entered the front room of the bar, it appeared that a celebration of some sort was taking place. It was packed tight with people, and between the jukebox at full volume, and the large crowd in the comparatively small room all talking and laughing loudly, it really did seem as if I had walked into a party.

Sonny's height made him easy to spot. He was way up front, maybe ten feet from the front door, he stood at the bar with Danny and some others. His eyes locked onto mine, and for the second time tonight he flashed a genuine smile. "C! Hey C! Come here!"" His voice carried over all the rest as he waved me in.

"Sonny! I have to talk to you!" I yelled back as I tried to make my way over to him. But he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He couldn't hear me.

"C! Come here!" he called out again, then to the crowd in front of me "Hey! Hey! Let the kid in! You guys! Let the kid through!" But they couldn't hear him, and weren't paying any attention.

It was then I saw him enter the bar through the front door. What first caught my attention was that he was about my age, but I didn't know him. Not from the neighborhood, and not from school.

As I continued trying to make my way to Sonny, I watched him slip in and out of my view, as he, too, had difficulty moving through the crowd. But I couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong, and I couldn't stop looking at him.

He wasn't trying to maneuver past the people as I was. It seemed as if he was trying to walk through them, as if he didn't even see them there. His focus was elsewhere. And his face. Everyone here was smiling, laughing, socializing, having a great time. They were alive. But his expression was dead. There was no life, no emotion. There was nothing there at all.

If I had thought earlier that Vito was the Devil, I was just as sure that I was now looking at a zombie. I watched as he approached Sonny from behind.

Sonny, Danny, all of them were looking over at me, laughing and waving me in. The zombie reached up, as if to tap Sonny on the shoulder to let him know he was there. Then his death mask suddenly disintegrated, replaced just as quickly with one of outrage and fury. Fuck! In his hand! He pointed at the back of Sonny's head.

"NOOOOOOO!"

I screamed louder than I ever thought myself capable. It ripped from my lungs and out through my throat. But Sonny didn't hear me. No one heard me. I didn't even hear it myself. The gunshot in that small, crowded room had completely drowned it out.


	12. Love lasts longer

All of this took place on October 25, 1968. It's a date I'll never forget. Throughout the years I've revisited it in my mind, over and over again. And after all this time, it still seems as if it were only yesterday.

Sonny was buried on the 29th, his fortieth birthday. Seven months went by, and I still hadn't been back to the gravesite. I felt bad about that, but I wasn't ready. It still hurt too much.

Anyway, I liked to believe then, as I still do now, that what lies in the ground beneath that ornate, engraved marker was just an outer shell. That his soul was elsewhere, and still watches over the neighborhood - and me as well.

I find myself talking to him sometimes, though not as often as I did the year or two after his death. I'm sure he heard me. There were even a few rare occasions when I directed some thoughts at him, and my mind would drift, remembering a time we spent together. Then suddenly and unexpectedly, I heard his voice respond in my head. It would never say much, only a few words, then it would just disappear. It was almost as if he just wanted to periodically remind me that his eyes and ears were always open, in case I thought he wasn't paying attention.

In May of 1969, I had one month left until graduation. I was still seeing Jane, and my father had come to accept this. I know he wasn't thrilled about it, but in the end, he said he just wanted me to be happy. Other people in the neighborhood didn't see it the same way. Whenever we walked together, we still received the dirty looks, snide comments; pointing and whispering among themselves.. But I didn't care.

I remember what Sonny said, when I first told him about her, and my concerns over what others would think and say. "Screw them. Let them think what they want. Who cares? When you and her are alone together at night, under the covers, the important thing is how you feel about each other. That's all that matters. Nothing and no one else."

He always had a way of getting his point across effectively.

Speaking of Sonny, I did keep my word. I hadn't gone back to the bar. It was even easier promise to keep than when I first made it.

For the longest time, I couldn't even walk past the place, not even if I kept my head down. I'd circle the block rather than walk by the corner where Sonny always hung out when he wasn't inside. There were too many memories collected under that lamppost, invisible to all except me. It was probably around the first week of June before I was able to pass by the place.

When I did start walking by, I noticed two things. The first was that all the outside chairs were pulled in, making the sidewalk seem larger and empty. No one hung around outside anymore, despite the beautiful weather. Maybe that was just something Sonny liked to do, and so without him they didn't bother? I really didn't know, but just the same I was thankful I didn't have to see anyone. I wasn't ready to talk to any of them yet.

The second thing wasn't as unusual. The warm weather was here, and I noticed that the front door was often left open during the day. One time I found myself sneaking a fast glance inside as I strode along the sidewalk. I couldn't make out who was in there, only silhouettes moving about. But the sunlight through the open doorway illuminated the floor in the area around the entrance. Tony hadn't changed it. It was the same aged, white tiles with the small circular patterns that had always been there. The same tiles that I had swept and mopped daily from the age of nine to about fifteen, when Sonny let me work there.

They were the same tiles that, when I was ten years old, with just a single shove, Bobby slid me across for the entire length of the room on my back, when Danny and I had jumped him in a play wrestling match during a slow afternoon. We were having a blast, but I guess we got too rowdy, because Sonny, who'd been in the back room, poked his head up front, telling us to knock it off or he'd lock the three of us in the basement bathroom for a week with nothing to eat or drink except stale bar pretzels and toilet water. Danny and Bobby got up, brushing themselves off and went to the bar. I just remained there, lying on that tile, laughing hysterically at the thought.

Much like that time when I was fifteen, and Big Ed had announced that he'd lost his wedding band somewhere in the bar the previous night. He offered a five-hundred dollar reward to whoever found and returned it. The ring somehow left his finger and was last seen in his jacket pocket, while he was entertaining his young niece from out of town.

Well, whatever the story was, didn't matter. Money was money. And not just to me. Within five minutes, everyone except Tony and Jojo were on all fours crawling around on those exact tiles, searching under the tables, seats and anything else when Sonny walked in the front door. As he glanced around the room at us, the completely dumbfounded expression on his face was priceless. "What the fuhhh..." was all he got out.

I was barely aware that I stopped on the sidewalk, and was just standing there, staring in at those same tiles that brought back so many memories. They were still the same tiles that I watched being quickly consumed by the dark red pool of Sonny's blood, spreading rapidly from beneath his head as he lay there, completely motionless. The same tiles that contrasted so sharply with the navy-blue blanket that Jimmy grabbed from the downstairs office and draped over Sonny's head and body while the other guys quickly threw everyone out of the building and shut the bar down.

Too many fucking memories.

I bolted and ran from them, and kept running until I was back in our own apartment.

Whenever I passed Chez Bippy after that, I never dared to look through the doorway again. Except this one time, and that only because I heard the screaming. It was Carmine, and if I told you that he sounded very pissed off, it would still be an understatement.

"What the fuck?! You fucking moron! I can't believe this! Sonny must have had a soft spot in his heart for dumb fucking animals, because if I was him I would have taken you out back years ago and shot you for the stupid mutt that you are! Don't you look at me like that!"

They were in the back room of the bar, so I had no idea who was catching Carmine's wrath, but still I heard the smack. It was that loud.

"Don't like that? Too fucking bad!" Carmine continued at full volume, "I don't like short envelopes! Next time it will be much worse, I guarantee you! Now get the fuck out of here, you cocksucker! All of you out. You all make me sick!"

I saw the shadows heading through the hallway to the front room of the bar. By the way they walked, I thought I could make out Danny, Coffeecake, Bobby and Tony in the rear. I couldn't tell which one had been in trouble, though - they all had their heads down and none of them spoke a word. I quickly walked away, went up the stoop to our building, then slowed down a bit as I headed up the stairs.

I thought about what I'd just seen and heard.

Well, Sonny, you told me once that you'd rather be feared than loved, because fear lasts longer than love. I think you may have been wrong on that one. Seems to me that all those guys who feared you no longer do. They found something that was much more frightening to fear now. But those of us who loved you? We still do, and probably always will. And nothing can replace that.

Of course, there was no response, but I liked to believe he heard me, and perhaps was thinking it over.

The next day was Friday. I had a lot on my mind that afternoon. Graduation was next week. I had aced all but one of my tests, but still managed to pull a respectable C+ on that last one. Jane was visiting her family in Brooklyn, and wouldn't be home until Sunday. I tried to think of a nice place I could take her, and one that I could afford. I still had some money saved from what I had earned last summer doing odd jobs for Sonny and the guys, but that was over now, and I'd need to put it away for books and college expenses.

I remember my father was beaming with pride when I told him of my plans, and I knew he would try to help me out the best he could. I felt bad about the idea of taking his money, though, especially because I knew he didn't have much to give.

What I needed to do was to get a summer job. The question was where, and doing what? My father had no real connections, other than the buses, but I wasn't eligible for such work. I didn't even have a driver's license. If Sonny had been here, I was sure he could've instantly gotten me a job anywhere I wanted to work, with a just simple phone call. But he wasn't here. I was on my own.

After school's out, I should go around to the local businesses to see who's hiring, I thought to myself. Then it occurred to me that perhaps I shouldn't wait. As soon as classes were over, every kid in the neighborhood will be looking for work. Maybe I would start this weekend, instead.

With all this going through my mind, I didn't even have to think about not looking as I hurried past Chez Bippy. I climbed up my stoop and was reaching for the door handle, when I suddenly heard a familiar voice call out from the corner, "C! Hey, C!"


	13. Don't you forget it

I turned to see Jimmy emerging from his car, which suddenly appeared parked at the corner where it hadn't been even a minute ago. That's when it occurred to me that I hadn't seen his car around here for a while.

It was the same car that we spent that last night in. He hadn't traded it in yet. The new 1970 models would be coming out in the fall, and knowing Jimmy's pattern, he'd give it up then. I was as certain of this as I was that his new car would be a Cadillac Fleetwood, painted black. I threw him a short wave of acknowledgement.

"Come here a minute C, I want to talk to you," he waved his hand, gesturing me over.

I tried to avoid all of them. I didn't think I was ready to confront the memories head on just yet. They were mostly good, except for that last night, but even the good memories still hurt bad. To me, everything and everyone in that place revolved around Sonny. He was, in some way, attached to them all, and I just couldn't face them.

But some part of me knew that sooner or later I'd have to deal with and come to terms with the past, instead of running and hiding from it. Maybe I could start slowly, by just going up to one of them who happened to be alone, and saying 'Hi, how are you doing?'

I headed back towards the corner. Jimmy was standing under the lamppost, as he had so many times before, back when this place was a source of pleasure, rather than pain. "Hey Jimmy, how've you been?"

He shrugged, he seemed a little sad, "As good as can be expected. I just wanted to see how you was doing? We haven't really talked since… you know. "

Yeah, I knew. "The funeral. I've been doing alright, I guess. I haven't seen you around much since then."

He glanced over at the bar and shook his head, drawing a sigh before turning his attention back to me. "It's true. I guess I've been kinda staying away. There's a lot of memories here."

I also took a look at the building next to us, then quickly turned away. "I know exactly what you mean."

He walked over to his car and leaned up against the rear quarter panel, much like the way Sonny used to do. "I wanted you to know C, that I tried." He lowered his voice but it didn't soften. I doubted it could. Jimmy had one of those voices that always sounded rough no matter what, most likely from all the cigarettes he smoked. As if he read my mind, he pulled a pack of Winstons from his pocket, tapped one out, and stuck it in his mouth. He went to put the pack away, then seemed to reconsider and extended it in my direction.

I shook my head and politely responded, "No, but thanks."

I used to smoke, but never at home and never at the bar. Sonny used to tell me that smoking was bullshit, and that there was all sorts of scientific medical proof that it damaged your body in countless ways. He most likely knew that I was burning nearly a pack a day. I'm sure he could probably smell it on me, as well as on my clothes. But still, he was the only one at the bar who never lit one up, and out of respect for him, I wouldn't, either. The only time I did smoke was with my friends, but when they died, my smoking habit went with them.

Jimmy tucked the pack away, flicked his silver monogrammed lighter, raised the flame to the tip and inhaled deeply. "I really did try," he slowly exhaled a cloud. "But he wouldn't listen to me. I told him he should avoid the bar for a while. So where does he want to go? I told him to stay in the back. _Several_ times. And every time I turn around, he heads up front. It's like he didn't care what happened."

He shook his head and I could see the sadness and regret in his face before he looked down. "It was more important to him that he be seen, that people knew he wasn't going to change his life or routine for nothing or nobody. In the end, it was his own fucking ego that got him killed."

No, I didn't think it was his ego. "It was availability," I informed Jimmy.

He narrowed his eyes, and cocked his head to the right, "It was _what_?"

I shook my head. "Never mind." I didn't feel like explaining Sonny's views on Machiavelli, and I knew that I'd never be able to effectively do so, anyway.

He shrugged and took another drag from his cigarette. "For a long time, I sort of blamed myself, you know? Thinking I shoulda done this different, I coulda done that." His hand quickly raised, then fell. "But then I came to realize, it wouldn't have made any difference. That cock-sucking kid was determined. You know who he was?"

I nodded slowly. "I heard he's the son of the man that Sonny shot in the street that day. When I was nine years old."

"Yeah, you believe that shit? You do something, and then eight years later it comes back one day to bite you in the ass. Ain't that the way it always seems to go?"

I couldn't even begin to think of a response to that, so I just let him continue.

"But what I'd really like to know" - I heard the anger building in his voice - "is how that motherfucker even got into the joint, and carrying, nonetheless." He pointed at me and it was obvious he'd now reached his anger and was fast approaching pissed off. "You tell me how something like that happens!"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I was on the other side of the room. I didn't notice him until after he'd gotten in. Didn't you ask the guys at the front door what happened?"

"Of course I did." He threw his cigarette to the ground before stomping it with his foot and twisting it out. "Useless fucking morons."

"What did they say?" I wasn't just making conversation. I really did want to know.

"What do you think? They lied through their teeth. Then after their teeth were no longer a problem, they still lied. They both gave the same bullshit story - that Sonny had personally okayed it. That he said to let the kid in." He snorted in derision. "That's one of the oldest plays out there. When shit goes wrong, blame the dead guy." He immediately lit up another cigarette. "Useless morons stuck to that story until the very end," he muttered.

I suspected what 'the very end' may have been, but I tried to push it from my mind. "But the asshole who shot him? What happened to him?"

I really didn't know. All I remembered immediately after the gun fired was that within a second or two after Sonny collapsed to the floor, Danny tackled the kid. Then at least six more of the guys had piled on. I couldn't even see him anymore.

The entire place broke out in complete pandemonium. But at the time, I just didn't care. I was too busy kneeling on the floor next to Sonny, bawling my eyes out like a little kid.

Jimmy shrugged. He'd calmed himself down a bit. "No idea. My understanding is that he committed suicide that same night. I heard it was quite messy."

"Really?"

Again, a long drag on his cigarette. "You find it surprising that the asshole offed himself? I don't. He was obviously suicidal, doing what he did in Sonny's bar with all his guys there. Who can figure people out?" He shrugged again.

I knew I couldn't always figure people out, but certain situations didn't seem to difficult. In this case, I suspected this kid's 'suicide' was very much assisted. Not that I could say the thought of it bothered me much.

"Anyway," he went on, "the past is past. We need to get over it, and just get on with our lives. I'm sure that's what Sonny would've told us. It's the right thing."

I nodded.

"I know it's been hard on you, C. It's been hard on me, as well. We aren't like the others." He waved a hand dismissively towards the bar. "Those guys don't give a fuck one way or the other. As long as somebody's paying them, that's all that matters. Me and you, we actually cared about him."

I nodded again. "Yeah." I couldn't say much more. There was a lump moving up in my throat.

With a small, sad smile he shook his head. "Look at us. You know, if he was here right now, he'd smack us both, and tell us we're just a couple of sentimental morons who need to get their shit together." He chuckled at the thought.

I managed a small smile, as well. He was probably right.

"Speaking of getting shit together, I understand you're graduating next week?"

"Yep," I answered proudly, and I was glad to change the subject for a bit.

"That's great. You planning on going to college?"

"Yeah. I'm not absolutely sure of a major yet, but I have a few ideas"

"That really is great. It never hurts to further your education. But I'm sure you know that college is also expensive. You planning on working this summer?"

"Yeah, I'd like to, but I'm not sure where, though. I guess I'll have to see who's hiring."

He nodded. "Well, maybe I can help you out? I mean, if there's anywhere you think you'd like to work at, let me know. I can always go speak to the guy in charge on your behalf. I'll put in a good word for you." He threw me a wink.

I thought it over quickly. That would be a big help and a load off my mind. "Yeah, okay. Thanks Jimmy, I'll let you know."

His smile grew wider. "No problem kid. Anything I can do to help, you just let me know, okay?"

"Thanks again Jimmy, I really appreciate it."

He pushed himself off the car and stood up, giving my shoulder a pat. "Anytime, and it's been good talking to you again. I mean it. I can't really talk to any of these idiots about Sonny. They just don't get it. They can't figure out why I even care. They depend on Carmine now, but just between you and me, Carmine is a fucking prick. He's the other half of the reason I avoid this place. I mean, I know he and Sonny were close, but he ain't nothing like Sonny. Sonny was a tough son of a bitch when he wanted to be, but I'll say he was always fair. This guy" - he jerked his thumb in the direction of the bar - "he don't even know the meaning of the word. I think he just gets off on being a dick.

"You know since he took over, he won't even let the guys sit outside on nice days? He says it makes the place look like some sort of hoodlum hangout and it brings down property values in the area. You believe that shit?" He sighed, "I'm sorry C. I don't mean to dump all this crap on you, it's not your problem. Sometimes I just got to let it out though, but you forget about it."

I sort of understood him. My experiences with Carmine were very limited. I had only met him that one time at Sonny's wake. He was very polite to me then, but I suspected that Jimmy was telling me the truth, and the real Carmine was closer to the guy I heard screaming in the back of the bar.

And as for Sonny, I had no one that I could speak with about him, either. I mentioned him quite a lot to Jane, but she'd never met him and I could tell she just didn't understand the relationship that we had.

I knew now that my father didn't hate him, but still from the one or two times that I brought up Sonny's name, it was clear that he'd rather not hear about him. Jimmy was probably the only one who did get it.

"It's okay, Jimmy. It's good to get it out. If you ever need someone to talk to, about Sonny, or even just to bitch about Carmine" - I gave him a wink - "you can come talk to me. It stays just between us, I won't say a word to anyone. Who would I talk to, anyway? Like you said, none of these guys get it."

He flashed me a smile that reminded me a little of Sonny's 'genuine' one, showing me his top teeth. But unlike Sonny's, Jimmy's eyes didn't crinkle at the outer corners. They just remained relaxed and thoughtful.

"Thanks, C. Sonny always said you were a good kid. I mean, I knew that anyway, but... hey! I just got an idea." He quickly checked his watch. "I have to make a run into Brooklyn in a bit. Just going to pick up some supplies. I was going to take Bobby along, but ah, screw him. Why don't you take a ride with me instead? You just help me load the car, and we'll talk more as we drive. What do you say?"

"I don't know Jimmy. How long is it going to take?"

"It's just Brooklyn kid, it ain't like we're going to Jersey or something." He chuckled. "We go, maybe twenty minutes or so, we load up, and we're on our way back. How long could it take? An hour or so maybe?"

Well, I didn't have much of anything planned, and it would be nice to talk out my feelings with someone who understands. I suppose it could be a good thing, coming to terms with the past.

He continued. "C'mon we'll be back before you know it. Everything's loaded in a box truck. We just pull up next to it, pack some of it into the back of the car and off we go. You don't have to do anything else; I'll deal with the guys there. It's real simple, and I'll tell you what, I'll throw you a C note just for taking the ride and helping me out. I know that you're going to need whatever you can get for when you start college, right?"

Right. I knew that as well. And a hundred dollars to sit in a car for an hour and load a few boxes sounded like a good deal to me. Heck, it really doesn't get better than that, talk about easy money—then it hit me.

I can only describe the feeling as if someone had just sucker-punched me in the gut. A burst of pain that started low, and quickly shot up into my throat. My heart jumped and I felt the air leave my lungs, while my skin turned ice-cold. It was as if I'd been asleep this whole time, and suddenly awoken with a start, realizing that up until this moment I had been dreaming. That this conversation hadn't been real at all, or at least not what I thought it was. Without being aware of it, I took a small step back from him.

Jimmy's smile disappeared, and his eyes narrowed. He turned quickly, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder before directing his attention back to me. "C? What's wrong? You okay?"

Am I okay? Yeah, now I was. But I almost wasn't. Damn, Sonny warned me that you were good. Well, actually, he used the terms 'slick' and 'sneaky'. But in the world that you guys shared, those are probably considered to be good traits. I guess I just didn't understand how good, until now.

I quickly shook my head, as if I was trying to clear my mind, although it hadn't felt this clear in a long time. "I'm okay Jimmy. But I just remembered that I have something I need to do (that is, to get the heck away from you). I'm sorry, I can't go with you today."

He lit up cigarette number three and looked me over for a moment. Then in a convincing voice, he said "Like I said, it'll only take an hour. Then you can go do whatever. I'd really appreciate it."

I'll bet. I put my hands out, palms up and gave what I hoped would appear as a helpless shrug. "I'm really sorry," I repeated, "I just can't. I made a promise."

He snorted through his nose and a small puff of smoke came out. He shook his head. "A promise? A promise to who? Just blow them off this time."

I pretended to consider it for a moment or two, then "No, I can't do that. He's my best friend."

Jimmy smirked. "Your best friend? I just thought maybe we could take a ride together, talk about old times, about Sonny…C'mon, C," he coaxed, "who's a better friend to you than Sonny was?"

Sorry Jimmy. I knew the answer to that one, even if you didn't. I took another step back and looked him straight in the eyes. "No one," I said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sonny also said that Jimmy was smart. I knew then, that he was right on that as well. I saw it. Something flashed in his eyes. They widened slightly before he blinked, and it was gone. But I knew in that split second, he had gotten the message.

"Okay," he finally said and flicked away what was left of his cigarette, "No problem and no hard feelings. I'll take Bobby with me. You do what you gotta do."

"Yup, that's what I plan on doing." I offered him a smile, I could afford to. I won this round, and I doubted very much that there'd be another. But even if so, I knew I'd be more than ready.

"You take care of yourself, Jimmy," and I couldn't help it; as I said those words I extended my right hand towards him. My thumb, index finger and pinky pointed straight to him, my middle and ring finger tucked into my palm. Sonny's trademark three-finger gesture.

"I always do, C," he answered, and I believed that may have been the most honest thing he said to me all day. He flashed me another big smile, and this time I saw the lines from the corners of his eyes. "Right back at you." He winked and returned three fingers as well, before he headed into the bar.

I slowly walked back to our building and headed up the stairs, thinking it over. Damn, that was so close. I almost blew it. I came within inches of shaping my life into something that I certainly didn't want it to be. It's a damn good thing I caught on when I did.

Only a short year ago, I would have just jumped into the car with Jimmy without a second thought, much like I had with my friends on the night they died. Maybe I'm learning to be more careful now, to open my eyes and ears a little more. This could be, but if so, I also knew that Sonny's words that night had played a major part in it happening. If this is what he had hoped to achieve, then he succeeded.

You didn't fail, Sonny. I told you that I listened to you. You were right about Jimmy, he is a slick and sneaky bastard. Did you see the way he tried to use you to get to me? Well, yeah, I guess you did and you were probably going crazy trying to figure out a way that you could reach out from wherever you are and smack the shit out of him. But it's okay. You know he's just being Jimmy. We know what he is, and we should just accept him for it, right?

I opened the door to our apartment, and headed for my room. As I lay on the bed, I started thinking again about that last night we had together.

Well Sonny, this is now the second time you saved my life. I don't know exactly when we're going to meet up again, but it looks to me like when we do, I'm going to owe you big time.

Anyway, that probably won't be for a while, but don't worry about me. In the meantime I'll remember everything you said, and I'm going to continue to keep my word to you. I promise I'll always be more aware and careful about my choices, because I really see now how even the smallest ones can shape your life forever.

I closed my eyes, and my mind started to drift. We were once again in the back seat of Jimmy's car, passing through the area 'where it's dark'. When it really took place almost eight months ago, I remember thinking that the silence and nothingness around us was eerie, unsettling, but now it seemed peaceful to me. The hum of the powerful engine, the low steady rhythm of the tires on the asphalt, the absence of anything else but us, and Sonny was right there next to me, still very much alive.

Then I heard it. It wasn't part of a dream, it was in my head. It was Sonny's voice, low, soft, but unmistakably his. "That's fucking right, and don't you forget it."

My eyes shot open, and a small gasp escaped me. Without moving my head from the pillow, I glanced around the room. For a moment, it almost seemed as if he were here, right next to the bed. But of course, there was nothing. I was alone. With a deep sigh, I closed my eyes again.

He's just reminding me that even if he doesn't respond sometimes, he's still always listening. This thought was comforting to me. And as I began to relax, my mind picked up where it had left off.

We were back in Jimmy's car again, traveling through the black void. The Cadillac drove on steadily and deliberately into the unknown darkness, heading towards our future. None of us could say for sure what our fates would be. The only thing that was certain, was that each one of our destinies would be formed by the choices we make.

 _ **As I am new to writing, I would appreciate any comments letting me know what is good, as well as what isn't. Any/all constructive criticism is welcomed. Thanks!**_


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